Partners in Crime
by Lady Tallulah
Summary: After kidnapping the wife of the High Priest Set, Bakura gets more than he bargained for when the priest shows no interest in paying the ransom for her safe return. Bakura/OC
1. Chapter 1

_New story, same old disclaimer; I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh._

 **Partners in Crime**

Chapter One

Kiya was praying at the temple of Amun Ra when he intruded. She turned at the sound of footsteps approaching her from behind. She thought it was her husband so she faked a smile and stood to greet him. On turning her breath caught in her throat. He clutched a knife in his hand. It was red. Used. The man's body pulsed with adrenaline. Sweat coated his muscular frame and his white hair was limp. This man was not her husband yet she knew who he was, everyone did. Putting fear aside she lay down her authority. This was her temple. He would not cast a shadow of evil upon it.

"You are not welcome here," she said. "You need to leave."

He ignored her demands and continued to walk until he was right in front of her. She stood her ground.

"Now," she growled.

He brought his face to within an inch of hers. She felt his breath on her trembling lips. He was intimidating but she would not falter. She heard the voices of the Pharaoh's soldiers in the distance. They had followed him and she believed that very soon he would see his final sundown.

Even at the sound of the guards approaching the man didn't move from his position. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes from hers. They were grey, and her hair blonde, a rarity for an Egyptian. Eventually he pulled away and looked at her clothing, putting two and two together.

"You are the wife of the High Priest Set, are you not?" he asked.

She bit her tongue, what she wished to say to him she refused to do so in the house of God.

"Answer me!" he yelled.

"Bakura!"

The intruder turned to the sound of the High Priest himself. Towering in the doorway, the man stood with soldiers either side, he looked to his wife and then to the thief.

"Surrender yourself Bakura, there is no escape from here," he said.

Bakura scanned his surroundings, contemplating his options. The young woman remained behind him and an idea formed in his mind. He reached his arm back and grabbed her by her hair. Pulling her in front of him, he placed his knife to her throat.

"Kiya!" Set called.

Bakura smirked. "So it is you," he whispered in her ear.

"Stop hiding behind her like a coward Bakura and come and face me like a man!"

"A coward?" he laughed. "You dare to call me names while I hold your wife's life in my hands?"

Bakura slid his knife across Kiya's neck, drawing a small amount of blood to show he was serious. She tried to free herself from his assault but stopped when she realized her struggles only caused his knife to press deeper.

"Stop this!" Set yelled, "State your demands."

Bakura didn't have to think, "I want the rod."

Set laughed loudly, much to Bakura's surprise.

"This amuses you?" Bakura asked.

"That is not a trade I am willing to make."

"Really?" he cooed.

He lifted his knife from her throat and placed it slightly higher. He made another shallow incision.

"Let her go!" Set yelled.

"Then you know what to give me."

"I will not be blackmailed."

"So your answer is no then?"

"That is correct," Set said.

Kiya closed her eyes and Bakura could feel her slump slightly in his arms. He was stunned by the High Priest's heartlessness. Would he really let his wife die that easily? "You don't seem to be thinking this through Set, but I'm a reasonable man and I will give you time to reconsider."

"I do not need time, Bakura!"

"Three days," he said. "Then we will speak again. Until then, your wife can warm my bed."

"Guards!" Set called, and Bakura laughed loudly.

Set's guards raised their weapons to attack. The eye of Horus appeared on Bakura's forehead and Kiya couldn't help but shiver at the darkness his body emitted. Bakura released his Ka with the cry of a warrior. The beast stepped forward shielding its master. The guards attempted to take it down with their spears but the beast was not phased. A ball of dark energy formed in its mouth and it hurtled it towards Set. The High Priest jumped out of the way just in time but the impact shook the ground. The walls began to collapse. Bakura took Kiya out the back entrance but Set had no choice but to flee from the front.

"Find them!" he yelled to his guards as he ran outside. "Find them now!"

Bakura's Ka provided enough distraction for him to flee the palace grounds with Kiya dragged unwillingly behind him. She tried to fight him off but he easily overpowered her. The thief's horse was waiting where he left it. He pulled Kiya close to his chest, his forehead rested to hers.

"Try anything stupid and I won't hesitate to kill you," he said.

She could feel his knife pressed against her back.

"Do you hear me?" he asked roughly.

"Yes," she said.

"You know who I am and you just saw what I am capable of."

She nodded and he let her go. She looked around, there didn't appear to be anyone in sight, yet she could still hear the Pharaoh's guards. She turned her attention back to her captor, he had just untied the horse and was ready to go. He climbed onto the animal and bent down to pick her up. He lifted her up and sat her in front of him. He wrapped one arm around her waist and with the other he clasped the reigns.

They raced towards the sun, leaving the city altogether. Kiya looked at the sand dunes around them and wondered where he was taking her. Wherever it was she was confident she would die there. Her hand graced her neck, the blood had started to dry and flakes fell onto her lap. She took a deep breath and fought the urge to cry.

* * *

The sun had set by the time they arrived at their destination. The building was large and looked abandoned but Bakura forced her inside anyway. It wasn't until she heard the laughs of other men that she realized he didn't live alone. Bakura marched her through the dining room, in front of everyone like a trophy. The men made insinuating hand gestures to her as she passed by. She looked up at Bakura who appeared to be smirking. They probably thought her to be a whore. She remembered Bakura's earlier comment and her heart sank.

Instead of his bedroom he led her downstairs to a dungeon. It was dark and cold but she was thankful he planned to leave her alone. Bakura pushed her into a cell and backed her up against the wall.

"Hold out your hands," he ordered.

She did as she was told and he unclasped her bracelets. Pocketing them, he then removed her rings. She winced at his roughness as he struggled to get them over her knuckles. When her arms and hands were bare he took her necklace too.

"Here," she said and pulled a golden clip out of her hair. Her blonde curls fell out of place and cascaded down her back.

He snatched it from her without thanks. He thought to take her clothing too, the material would surely be worth something. Before he could tell her to remove it, he heard his name being called.

"Down here, Marik!" he called back.

Marik made his way down the stairs and saw Bakura locking the cell door.

"Who in Ra's name is that?" Marik asked.

"The High Priest's wife."

Marik's mouth fell open. Sure they were thieves, but they stole gold and jewels not people. He grabbed his friend by the arm and pulled him out of the woman's earshot.

"Have you lost your mind? What is she doing here?"

"She's my hostage."

"Your hostage?"

"Yes. I told that priest she would be exchanged for the Millennium Rod."

"Please tell me you're joking?"

Marik looked over at the woman in the cell. She seemed unusually calm for a captive. She was on her knees now, hands clasped together in prayer.

Bakura continued, "He has three days to decide which is more important, his rod or his wife."

Marik ran a hand through his hair, muttering something incoherent under his breath.

Bakura noticed his friend's doubt, "He will chose her, Marik," he said.

"And what if doesn't?" Marik asked.

"Then I will send him his wife's fingers, one by one until he changes his mind. And if I run out of fingers, I will send her toes. And if I have to send him every limb on her god forsaken body I will!"

Kiya looked over at the two arguing men. The more frustrated Bakura got the louder he spoke. Her mouth hung open at the vulgarity of his words.

"What are you looking at?" Bakura spat.

"If you think my husband will part with his Millennium Item in order to save me, you are sadly mistaken," she said.

Curiously, Bakura approached the cell, wrapping his arms around the bars.

"And why do you say that?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "It's no secret our marriage was arranged. Set does not love me. If you wished to blackmail him you should have found his mistress, Kisara. For her he'd give his soul."

Bakura and Marik exchanged glances.

"Are you satisfied?" Marik asked, "You took the wrong bloody woman!"

"I took his _wife_! I don't keep up with royal scandals, how was I to know any of that?"

"You probably should have done your research," Kiya said.

"Shut up!" Bakura and Marik yelled together.

"So what do we do with her now?" Marik asked.

Bakura looked at the caged girl, she smiled at him mockingly.

"We kill her," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to the following people for their kind reviews: Shizuuhimeko, Sakura Trees, Himeno Kazehito, Anuk-Su-Namun-Motou and Lunaontherun**

Chapter Two

Kiya sat alone in the dungeon. She assumed it to be early morning and yet she was still wide awake. Her fear had brought about an unwanted insomnia. The underground cold didn't help either. Her teeth chattered and she could see her breath when she exhaled. No one had come to see her. No one had thought to bring her dinner or even bedding. The ground was hard though she had no choice but to lay on it _. Perhaps they had forgotten her, she thought._ Or maybe they wished her to starve to death. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of food and she rolled to her side, clutching her stomach. She closed her eyes and thought back to the night before, when her captors argued over her.

" _We are not going to kill her, Bakura!" Marik said._

 _Bakura began to unlock the cell door and Kiya backed herself up against the wall._

" _Have you a better idea?" he asked.  
_

 _His question was directed at Marik but his eyes were fixed on Kiya's. She watched the way he twirled his knife in his hand._

" _What's done is done," Marik said, "let's just wait and see what Set decides before we go killing anyone."_

She was thankful for that man, Marik. Even if all he did was postpone her death. She cursed herself silently, she should have just kept her stupid mouth shut.

Kiya's eyes sprung open at the sound of a door opening. She sat up quietly and held her breath, listening nervously for the sound of footsteps. They were audible and she brought her knees to her chest and rested her head atop them. She knew who was coming and she didn't want to see him. Soon she heard him stop and she felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. He was watching her.

"I thought you'd be awake," he said.

She still refused to look at him and her rudeness angered him. He opened the cell door and threw a plate of food at her feet. The clay plate broke and the food ended up on the floor. Kiya opened her eyes in fright and looked at the man and then to the food that was now scattered before her.

"Thank you," she whispered, surprised by his gesture.

She didn't care about the state of the food, she was hungry and picked up a piece of meat. After dusting off the dirt she pulled it apart with her fingers, making it into small, more manageable pieces. Bakura watched her from the cell doorway, his facial expression still serious.

"Do you really believe Set will not make an attempt to save you?" he asked.

Kiya swallowed her mouthful before she answered. "Oh he'll make an attempt to save me, he just won't part with his rod."

"Why not?"

Kiya challenged him, "I'll assume you know the power it possesses, since you want it so badly. So answer me this… If you were the one to hold it now, would you give it up for a woman?"

"This isn't about me," Bakura said.

"But would you?" she asked again.

"No," he admitted.

Kiya popped another piece of meat in her mouth. "Then you have Set's answer too," she said between chews.

"You'd compare him to me?"

"You are not dissimilar. You both know what you want and neither would let anything stand in your way… The anything being me."

"I gathered that." Bakura interrupted. "So what do you propose I do?"

Kiya shrugged her shoulders. She didn't care for their games.

"You seem to be asking for you death," he commented.

"I'm just being realistic."

"Kisara," Bakura said, "you mentioned her earlier."

Kiya's expression changed at the sound of the woman's name. "What about her?" she growled.

"She's sleeping with your husband?"

She nodded solemnly, "Yes."

"And you know this for sure?"

"You mean have I witnessed them having sex?"

Bakura didn't say anything but his facial expression said it all.

"Well I don't go out of my way to watch it, but yes, I have walked in on them before," she admitted.

Bakura couldn't help but laugh loudly.

"You find my adulterous husband amusing?" she snapped.

"Why do you stay with him then?" he asked.

She thought about her answer carefully.

"You know I have no choice..."

Bakura didn't say anything further. He just sat and watched her eat off the ground like an animal. She looked rather plain without all the jewellery but it seemed to suit her well. He knew more about her than she probably thought. He'd always made it his business to know his enemies. He knew she had been born to a wealthy family, brought up in the south of Egypt and wed to the High Priest at the age of seventeen. Having been together for two years, she was yet to bare him a child… now he knew why.

She ate at a leisurely pace but he did not hurry her along. He waited patiently for her to finish and when she did he offered her his hand. She looked at him suspiciously.

"Or you can get up on your own accord," he growled withdrawing his hand.

"Where are we going?" she asked as she stood.

"My room," he said and walked towards her, backing her up against the wall. His hands pressed against the stone trapping her between his arms. He was eager to see her reaction.

Her heart beat frantically, "Are you planning on taking advantage of me?" she asked.

"If you want me to," he whispered in her ear.

His hot breath sent chills down her spine. "I will not be anyone's whore," she said sternly.

"Suit yourself," he said and released her, "but you're still coming with me."

He grabbed her by the wrist but she pulled out of his grasp.

"I think I'd rather stay here,"

"Don't be stupid! It's so cold down here you'll freeze before morning."

Kiya wondered why he cared.

"Though that would solve my problem of what to do with you…" he trailed off.

She sighed heavily and followed him out before he changed his mind. She'd be thankful to sleep on anything but the stone floor.

Walking up the stairs she immediately felt the temperate increase and feeling slowly returned to her hands and feet. She noticed how quiet the place was compared to when she first arrived.

"How many people do you live with?" she asked.

He didn't answer her. At this stage, he did not trust her enough not to tell the Pharaoh.

His was the last room at the far end of the hallway. He unlocked the door and placed his hand on the curve of her back, pushing her in before him. She studied his room, it was dimly lit by a few candles. The door was the only way out and he had already locked that. He placed the key around his neck and told her she was welcome to sleep wherever she wanted. He had a lot of gold and jewels scattered about and she saw hers on top of the heap. She sat on the edge of his bed, still unsure of his motive. She knew not to trust the word of a thief. He removed his cloak and she turned away flushed at the sight of his naked chest. He tried not to smirk at her discomfort but he couldn't help it. She seemed so pure, unlike the other woman who had sat on his bed.

He blew out the candles and the darkness covered her nervousness. She could feel the bed move as he got under the covers. She turned to look at him but she couldn't see him in the dark. She shuffled herself back and lay down as close to the edge of the bed as possible. She closed her eyes and it was then she realized how exhausted she was. She felt Bakura shuffle. He pulled the top sheet off himself and draped it over her so she would not be cold.

He couldn't help but pity her.

 **A.N. Hello everyone! Thank you for making it through chapter two. Sorry it was a little short. The next chapter is going to be "Day One" of being a hostage, then the next chapter "Day Two", the next "Day Three" and lastly, the finale (which may be a few chapters).**

 **I'm so excited to be writing this story and I have a lot of fun things planned for it!**

 **Will Set change his mind and realize what's important in his life? Or will Bakura steal his rod and his wife? … Stay tuned to find out.**


	3. Chapter 3

_**A.N. I had so much fun writing this chapter so I hope you all enjoy it!**_

Day One - Morning

Bakura awoke long before Kiya did. He had never been a good sleeper. His subconscious played him scenes that would leave any viewer disturbed. They were his memories; a burning village, a dying family, a broken childhood. He lay on his bed and rested his arms behind his head, propping his body up ever so slightly. He lifted his leg and circled his right foot in the air. It was sore and he realized he must have hurt it the day before. He lowered it back down and looked to the sleeping girl beside him. Wrapped in his blanket, she had curled herself up into a ball. Her hands clutched the pillow her head rested on and her body rose and fell softly with each breath. He wondered what her dreams entailed. Was she plagued by bad memories like him or was she more optimistic? He decided on the latter as a small smile crept across her lips. He frowned at the sight. His hostage should not be happy. She should not be peacefully dreaming and she should definitely not be in his bed, unless of course, she was under him. He had been sympathetic and it would not be repeated. He would make sure of that. Come three days' time he needed to be prepared to kill her should Set not go through with the exchange. He stood from his bed and was quick to gasp as he applied pressure to his foot.

"Are you alright?" Kiya asked.

Bakura turned around to see her staring up at him. He wondered how long she had been awake for. Perhaps she had been smiling because she knew he was watching her.

"I thought you were asleep," he growled, and turned around once again, hobbling across the room in search of something.

"I find it hard to sleep," she said, "I'm sure you understand what that's like."

"What have you to be fearful of?" Bakura asked.

"Fearful?" she queried the word he chose.

Bakura bent down to pick up a change of clothes off the floor. "Fear," he said, "is what keeps most people up at night. Therefore, I wondered what you are afraid of."

"What, aside from you?"

To stop from smirking she squished her lips together and pulled the blanket up over her mouth childishly. Bakura turned to give her a disapproving stare. Having composed herself she lowered the sheet.

"Come," he said and she jumped even though his tone was not angry. Kiya stood from the bed and followed Bakura out of his room and down the hallway. The building still seemed quiet and she wondered if she had imagined the other men she saw the night before. She chose not to ask Bakura where they were going, she assumed he was taking her back to the dungeon. He stopped briefly, his walking having faltered and at that moment Kiya contemplated running. She looked around. The walls were stone, the hallway was long with many adjoining doors. She couldn't begin to guess where they all lead. This place was like a labyrinth and, if she wasn't careful, it would also be her tomb. She shook the stupidity from her mind. Set would find her soon. The Pharaoh's guards would be out looking for her. A place this size couldn't go unnoticed no matter how far out of the city it was. Bakura resumed his walk and she followed obediently behind him. He opened a door on his left and pushed her inside. He followed her in and locked the door behind him. She gasped at the sight before her and swiftly turned around bumping into her captor's chest. Bakura threw his clean clothes on the floor.

"Should you wish to be clean you are to bathe with me," he said, his eyes fixated on hers.

Kiya's face flushed as he unwrapped his shendyt from around his hips. He let it drop to the floor and her eyes grew wide at the sight of something she hadn't wished to see. Bakura walked past her, confident in his own nakedness. His bottom was as white as his hair and Kiya felt the need to fan herself from embarrassment. No one had dared speak, or act in such a manner around her before and she was at a loss for words. Placing her hands on her hips she turned around and faced the door. She heard him step into the water.

"It is one thing to have to share your bed, but I am not getting into that bath with you," she said sternly.

"Suit yourself," he called back.

Kiya tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for him to clean himself. Hours ago she had longed for a bath. Her hair was a mess and her neck still had traces of dried blood from where he had cut her. She moved her hands from her hips and looked at her fingernails, there was dirt beneath them and she felt like a peasant. She returned them to her hips, tapping her fingers in time with her foot. She could hear Bakura moving about in the water and she wondered what he was doing. Most relaxed in the bath rather than swam about it. She started to chew her lip, a habit her mother had always scolded her for. Before she could even form an image of her mother's disapproving face she was lifted above ground. She screamed at the top of her lungs as he carried her across the room, "Put me down!"

"As you wish," Bakura said and dropped her into the bathing pool.

The cold water hit her like a thousand knives and she sank straight to the bottom. She pressed her feet firmly on the floor and pushed herself back up, spitting water out of her mouth as she emerged. She wiped her wild hair from her face only to see Bakura climbing back in. She tread water trying to get to the edge but he grabbed her by her waist.

"Where do you think you are going?" he asked and pulled her to where the pool was shallower. He sat down with her on his lap. "Now are you going to clean yourself or do I need to do it for you?"

She tried to struggle from his embrace, "You will be a dead man when my husband hears of this."

"One hush now, I'm sure when requested for a bath Kisara doesn't make such a commotion," he smirked feeling Kiya flinch, he could tell he had struck a nerve.

"Let me go," she said one final time and Bakura released her. She paddled her way back to the other side of the pool and then tiled her head back so all her hair was in the water. She quickly massaged her scalp and ran her hands down her hair in a poor attempt to remove the dirt. When she was done she lifted her head back up and splashed water on her neck. Her hands ran over her skin, scrubbing the blood from her body.

Bakura watched her from across the pool. The cold water had hardened her nipples making them visible beneath the wet clothes that clung to her body. He felt the blood rushing to his loins and he couldn't help but wonder why Set wasn't attracted to her. Kiya noticed him staring and covered her chest with her arms. She mumbled something in disgust and lifted herself out of the pool.

"You look good wet," Bakura commented, but he couldn't make out her reply.

Kiya found a towel hanging on a hook on the wall. Taking it she wrapped it around her shoulders and sat on the floor with her back to Bakura, waiting for him to finish. It wasn't long before he came up behind her and ripped the towel from her body. "I believe this is mine," he said.

She didn't fight him for it. She was quite happy he used it to cover his manhood. Bakura dressed before he had properly dried and then ordered her to stand. Her teeth couldn't help but chatter as they walked back down the hallway, leaving wet footprints in her wake. Bakura stopped abruptly and knocked on a passing door. A gruff man opened it and nodded to Bakura. Neither said anything but Kiya noticed Bakura flick his eyes in her direction. She tried to peer inside but the man shut the door in her face. Bakura didn't wait long before a woman appeared in place of the man. She handed Bakura a piece of clothing and a towel and shut the door once again. Bakura handed them to Kiya.

"I have errands to run today so you will return to the dungeon. I'll have my men bring you food later."

Kiya nodded graciously accepting the items, "thank you."

He led her back to the underground dungeon and locked her in the same cell. Without saying anything further he left her alone. Kiya sighed with relief as she watched him leave. She waited for a few more minutes before removing her wet dress to change. Bakura watched from the shadows as she squeezed the water from her long hair and wiped her arms and torso dry with the towel. He studied her body, mainly her breasts, but soon his eyes found their way down to her thighs and to what lay between them. He licked his dry lips at the mental image he conjured up of slowly parting those legs. He'd slip a finger inside her to test her warmth. She'd be tight, having only been with one man. He'd tease her for a while and when she was ready for him, he'd enter her. Her breath would initially catch in her throat and then when she regained her voice, she'd call out his name.

Kiya put the dry dress on; it was cheap but it fit her well. She sat down with her back pressed against the wall. She closed her eyes and as she did so, she swore she heard the footsteps of someone walking away in the distance.

* * *

Bakura returned to his room and rummaged through his possessions until he found something to bandage his foot with. He sat on the edge of his bed and, slipping his shoe off, he wrapped his ankle as tightly as he could. Before he could finish he heard a knock on the door. He knew who it was; the only one who dared disturb him was Marik.

"Come in," he said.

Marik opened the door and saw his partner applying first-aid. "What's wrong?" he asked and closed the door.

"My ankle," Bakura said. "I think I've twisted it."

"Doing something, or should I say someone, you shouldn't have been doing?" Marik grinned and Bakura narrowed his eyes. "I know she spent the night in here."

"She stayed here so she would not freeze to death. She is our security remember," Bakura said not knowing why he needed to justify his actions, "and my ankle, I hurt yesterday."

Marik didn't say anything back but produced an 'if you say so' look on his face.

"Are the horses ready?" Bakura asked.

"Yes, are you sure you're alright to go?"

"I'll be fine."

"And the girl?"

"She can stay here."

"You trust the others alone with her?"

Having finished with his ankle, Bakura stood from his position on the bed and put on his red coat, "I'll have any man's head who touches her on my dinner plate this evening."

Marik scrunched up his face. "Do you always have to be so vulgar?" he asked as they walked out the door.

 _ **A.N. I intended to make this chapter "day one" and the next chapter "day two" however, this chapter turned out a lot longer than I planned so I'm splitting it into two and titling this chapter "day one – morning" and the next "day one – afternoon/evening" Does anyone care? Probably not…**_

 _ **Thank you to these amazing people for their support: Anuk-Su-Namun-Motou, lunaontherun, Ari, Guest, BelowtheFire and Himeno Kazehito.**_


	4. Chapter 4

Day One – Evening

The first thing Bakura did when he returned that evening was check on his stolen possession. Kiya sat in the position he had left her in. Having been raised in a high class society she was well disciplined. A royal's life is not easy. It requires strength to endure the long days and nights the role demands. A woman is always on display, and to please, one must virtually become a doll; perfect in appearance with a submissive attitude, moving only at her husband's command. Kiya came to realise in her confined solitude that Bakura, though animalistic, was now her owner, and should she wish to make it out of his prison alive, she needed to abide by his rules. If the worst came to pass, he would take her life but not her class.

Bakura opened the cell door and told her to stand. Kiya obeyed his order and brushed the dirt from her new dress. He grabbed her by the wrist and upon looking down she noticed his knuckles were grazed. This man always seemed to be starting wars and she shivered wondering what was made of the other man.

"Are you hungry?" Bakura asked as they ascended the stairs.

"Uh- a little," she admitted.

"Did my men bring you food for lunch?"

"Yes, they did, thank you."

Bakura stopped at the top of the stairs and pulled on Kiya's arm so she would face him. "Did they touch you?" he asked.

Surprised by his question she blinked a few times. "What?"

"Did they touch you?" he asked again.

"No! No, not at all!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, they just dropped the food and left."

Bakura was satisfied with her answer. His men were wild and though he did not trust them he was confident none would have the balls to touch his things.

"Then you will dine with us this evening," Bakura said.

He could feel Kiya trying to pry her way out of his grip so he tightened his hold. He couldn't help but smirk knowing he had startled her. This will be rather entertaining, he thought.

"On second thought," Kiya started, "I'm not that hungry. Perhaps I should just go to bed."

"Nonsense!" Bakura said. "It's not every day that we have the wife of a priest among our rank. You shall entertain us with your courtly conversation."

Kiya narrowed her eyes, she knew he was mocking her and had she not promised herself to behave in his presence, she would have rebutted. Greatly amused, Bakura's laugh rang loudly throughout the hallway. Kiya finally managed to wriggle herself out of his hand but she continued to walk beside him. When they reached the end of the hall, the smell of food became apparent, as did the voices of the other residents. Bakura, with great exuberance swung the dining room doors open.

"May I present to you all our honorable guest for this evening, the radiant Kiya, wife of the High Priest Set," he announced.

"Oh for the love of Ra…" Kiya mumbled under her breath.

Bakura's men cheered and raised their glasses in obvious sarcasm. Kiya scorned their attempts to humiliate her. Though a flush of embarrassment graced her cheeks, she kept her head held high even as Bakura marched her around the table like an animal going to the slaughter. The men whistled at her when she passed and the odd few attempted to grab at her behind. She batted off their hands much to Bakura's amusement. Reaching the head of the table Bakura sat her to the right of him, the position of a queen. As soon as she was seated the men seemed disinterested with her and continued in their own private conversations. Relieved, Kiya turned her attention to the food that was laid out before her. There was meat and vegetables and copious amounts of wine; a true banquet. Taking an empty goblet off the table, Bakura filled it to the brim with a red wine that was being passed around. He handed it to Kiya and drunk his own straight from the bottle. Kiya smelled the liquid suspiciously even though she had just seen him drink it. She took a small sip, it wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst she had had either. Bakura made a plate of food for himself and then for her. She watched him wolf down his food, barely chewing. She scrunched up her face, he was rather disgusting at times. Feeling her stare he turned to her.

"What?" he asked with a piece of lamb hanging out of his mouth.

"You're revolting," she insulted.

Picking up the knife and fork beside her plate she attempted to cut her own meat like any lady would, but before she could even start Bakura had grabbed the knife from her hand.

"I'm not sure I trust you with this," he said and threw it on the floor.

"What, you think I'll stab you?" she asked.

He talked with a full mouth, "With a big fat smile on your face."

Kiya pursed her lips, he was right.

After that, neither of them attempted any further conversation with the other. Kiya ate slowly, her senses on high alert. A blonde man came over to speak with Bakura after they'd eaten. He introduced himself to her but Kiya wasn't interested in remembering names. The two thieves discussed business, and a robbery they intended to commit in the next few days. Neither were concerned by her presence, by the time they executed their plan they both secretly knew she would not be alive to tattle on them.

The evening went slowly but eventually Bakura stood and announced to her it was time for them to leave. A small chill went down Kiya's spine when Bakura placed a hand on her lower back. She was not used to such affection having married to the country's most heartless man. Bakura's hand lingered there all the way to his chambers. For a moment Kiya thought she felt him slip purposefully and touch her arse, but before she could comment he had moved it back up. He'd had a bit to drink but Kiya didn't believe him to be a man who would easily lose his senses.

Arriving at his room Kiya rubbed her neck with her hand. Her whole body was stiff from anxiety.

"So," Bakura began, "do you fancy giving yourself to me?"

"Excuse me?" she asked. Outraged, she turned to a witness a devilish smirk crossing his face. "Are you out of your mind?"

He removed his red robe, "What if I promised your life in exchange for your body?"

"Then you should kill me now because I have told you before that I will be no one's whore. Least of all-"

"Least of all mine," Bakura finished, "yes I do recall."

He took a knife from his belt and toyed with it in his hands, running a finger delicately across the blade. Kiya gulped as he approached her, bringing the weapon to her pale throat. Defiantly, she stared him in the eyes until he backed down.

"You're brave, I'll give you that," he said.

Feeling her legs about to give way, Kiya sat on the edge of his bed. She leaned forward and rested her head in her hands. No one had ever called her brave before. She didn't feel it, to her she was a coward. Her life was a game in which she pleased others, never stepping out of line, never raising her voice. Only in her dreams could she be free. She longed to run, but in reality she would never have the courage. When she looked back up Bakura was staring at her.

"You really think I'm brave?" she asked.

Bakura shrugged, "either that or stupid. I'm undecided."

Kiya couldn't help but laugh. Yes, stupid, that seemed more fitting.

She kicked her shoes off and Bakura did the same. The bandage that wrapped his foot was falling loose and having noticed it Kiya offered to replace it for him. He picked up some unused fabric and tossed it to her. They traded places on the bed and Kiya knelt down before him. He placed his foot on her lap and she carefully untied the existing bandage. Studying his foot it was clear there was no open wound, so she assumed it to be a fracture. For it to heal he needed to keep off it for a few days. However, knowing that wasn't an option for him, she didn't recommend it. She applied the new bandage, wrapping it securely. When she finished she lay his foot back down and sat up on her knees. Before she could stand Bakura slid himself off the bed and knelt down in front of her.

"Thank you," he said.

Kiya blushed, his face was now dangerously close to hers. "You're welcome,"

She tried to lower her head but Bakura brought a hand to her chin tilting it back up. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and held his hand against her cheek. His touch was warm and, had he been anyone else, she probably would have melted into his body.

His face inched closer and he licked his lips. Overcoming his desire to kiss her he tapped her cheek with his hand and pulled away.

"You should get some sleep," he said as he stood.

Kiya let out a breath of air she hadn't realised she had been holding in.

Bakura went to the door, "I'll be back later," he said, and without waiting for her reply he left, locking her in.

 **It's late and I'm tired, so I apologise for any spelling mistakes.**

 **Thank you in advance for all for your reviews! Hint, hint! Wink, wink!**


	5. Chapter 5

Day Two - Part One  


"Sandstorm," Bakura said when he returned shortly after telling Kiya he was going out for the day.

Kiya nodded solemnly in response. The Gods were mad, she thought. Bakura had dishonored them when he kidnapped her and destroyed her temple. He was an unholy man, and his Ka was proof of his sin. It was a ghastly beast, one that belonged in the deepest depths of the shadow world. Kiya was well aware that people were born pure, heart and Ka. Their actions determined who they were and she hated to think what Bakura had done in his life to have created such a monster.

Yet then there was Kisara; the girl with the white dragon, and Set's one true love. How had she kept a pure soul with such adulterous behavior? And why had fate allowed her to cross paths with Set all those years ago? Perhaps she had been destined to be his wife, and it was really Kiya that stood in their way.

"Are you even listening to me?" Bakura growled.

Kiya shook her head, snapping back to reality. "I'm sorry," she apologized, "I was just thinking."

"About your husband?" he asked.

Kiya fiddled with her hands as she sat nervously on the edge of his bed.

"About my life," she sighed.

Still in his coat, Bakura lay down and rested his arms over his eyes. "What? About how perfect it is?"

Turning in his direction she shot him an unseen look of distaste. "My life is far from perfect," she said sternly.

"Whatever you say…" he mumbled.

The nerve of this man, she thought. He has no idea the life I've led or the struggles I've faced. Just because I live in a palace does not mean my life is easy.

"Is that why you took me?" she asked rudely. "To make my life as miserable as you believe yours to be."

He dismissed her insinuation. "You know why I took you."

"For the rod?" she asked.

"Yes."

"And the power?"

"Yes."

Her next question surprised him.

"Why?"

Bakura removed his arms from his face and sat up to look at her. She was standing beside him now with her hands on her hips. Despite her appearance she wasn't an idiot. She knew what power those items possessed and if she was to die at his hands, she at least wanted to know the reason.

"You think you will be content when you own the world?" she asked. "When people bow down before you? What you do-"

"What I do, I do for revenge," he said, raising his voice above hers.

"Revenge?" she queried.

"Yes, carry my pain and you may know the feeling."

"Pain?" she laughed. "What pain? You think the Gods have wronged you because you weren't born with a crown upon your head?"

"Let me tell you a story," he said as he stood, his voice growing with his temper. Kiya took a step back as he brought his face to within an inch of hers. "When I was a child I watched my village burn. _Your_ Pharaoh destroyed it. My people were slaughtered. My family, sacrificed!" He let the words linger in the air before continuing. "Their souls were denied judgement and instead they were used to create the Millennium Items your people now carry."

"You're lying," Kiya hissed.

"Am I? Have you ever asked Set how those items came to be?"

"Those items were a gift from the Gods."

Bakura scoffed. "Is that what he told you?"

"Everybody knows that! Aknumkanon is a great King, he would never have done such a thing."

Bakura's hand came up and slapped her across the face.

"I am the only one you will refer to as King!" he roared.

Kiya held her cheek. She could taste blood in her mouth. Their eyes met; both alight with rage.

"You will never be king," she said. "A king is one who can endure life with great fortitude."

Grabbing her by the throat it took Bakura everything he had not to kill her right then and there. At the loss of oxygen, Kiya's eyes rolled back into her head and when Bakura was sure she was about to pass out, he dropped her to the ground. On his release she coughed and gasped desperately for air. Meanwhile, Bakura walked out of his chambers slamming the door behind him.

* * *

The bar was bustling but Bakura sat alone. He'd spent the day sharpening his weapons in their hideout and when the sandstorm finally ceased he found himself down the road, drinking wine at the local watering hole. He hated wild weather and the confinement that it brought. When he is king, he thought, there will be no storms, just a dark tranquility.

His drink was halfway to his mouth when he saw Marik approaching, dragging an unwilling girl behind him. Lowering his mug he stood abruptly and growled, "What's she doing here?"

"You need to feed her," Marik said, shoving her into his friend's chest. "She won't be worth anything to us tomorrow if she's dead."

The thief blinked seemingly unaware of how much time had escaped him. His mind had been preoccupied with thoughts of his family. Now it was late evening and he realised he'd left Kiya alone, unfed and un-watered all day.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I told him not to bring me here."

Disgruntled, Marik walked off. He'd expressed his opinion about her from the start. As far as he was concerned she was Bakua's problem; he wasn't going to play babysitter.

Bakura told Kiya to sit. He waved for the barman and requested some food and another drink for them both. When he sat opposite her he noticed her lip was split and her neck bruised from their altercation earlier. Seeing him staring she turned to avoid his gaze. Both were headstrong and neither had apologised to the other by the time the barman returned with their drinks. Dehydrated Kiya drank her wine like it was water.

Although she didn't regret the things she had said, what he told her about his family and village had plagued her all afternoon. It couldn't be true, she thought, she refused to believe it. Her Pharaoh was a good man and an honest one too. Yet in Bakura's eyes she saw an untold pain and behind that, a truth that unnerved her.

"I'm sorry about your family," she said finally. "I couldn't imagine-"

"No, you couldn't," Bakura interrupted.

Kiya huffed and looked away, regretting opening her mouth.

"I just don't like to talk about it," he said.

They were silent for a couple of minutes.

"Well, what do you want to talk about?" she asked.

Dumbfounded, Bakura didn't know how to answer that question. His brain wanted to tell her to shut up but his heart desperately sought the companionship of another human being. Kiya gave him an awkward smile and hoped she hadn't crossed another line. To her surprise Bakura waved for the barman and requested he refill his guest's mug.

"New recruit?" the barman asked Bakura, having not seen Kiya around before and sensing her nervousness.

Bakura smirked. "You could say that."

When the worker left Kiya leaned forward and whispered, "He thinks I'm a thief?"

"Either that or my whore," Bakura replied.

Kiya wouldn't let him offend her that easily. "You couldn't afford me," she said.

"Oh really?" he snickered. "I think you would be rather surprised to know what I can and cannot afford."

"You make your fortune from stealing that's hardly a noble profession."

"Wealth is wealth, it doesn't matter how it is accumulated."

Kiya's eyes shimmered playfully as an idea crept to mind. "Teach me then," she said.

"Teach you what?" he asked.

"How to steal."

Bakura laughed wholeheartedly yet his voice was but an echo in the vibrant bar.

"What's so funny?" she asked, rather irritated by his response.

"You want to know how to steal?"

"Yes."

Now it was his turn to interrogate her.

"Why?" he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. "It could come in handy one day."

"You don't possess the necessary skill," he said.

"Oh please, if you can do it how difficult can it be?" she mocked.

Bakura's lips pursed at the challenge. "Alright," he said, taking one final sip of his drink before standing. "Get up."

She hesitated for a moment but then did as he commanded.

"There's only one thing you need to know," he said.

"And that is?" she asked.

"Distraction."

"Distraction… really?"

"People are idiots," Bakura said, "and they are usually only capable of focusing their attention on one thing at a time. Give them anything interesting to focus on and they won't pay attention to their money or their valuables."

"So how do I distract them?"

"Sex."

Kiya seemed to choke on air. "Excuse me?" she asked, not liking the grin that was forming on his face.

"Approach any man here, touch him affectionately and you will be able to take anything you want from him."

"That's it? That's your advice?"

"Trust me, a man's a man and he'll be too busy thinking about undressing you to notice where your hands go." Bakura could see the heat rise in her cheeks. "So…" he said, "you can start by practicing on me."

Kiya looked around. "What? Now?"

"I've taught you all you need to know." He leaned back on the table. "So come on… seduce me."

When she didn't move he sighed and stood back up. Picking up both her hands he placed one on his neck. "When you touch me there, you can steal from me here," he said and brought her other hand to his coat pocket. With his help, she removed a small bag of coins and slipped it into her own pocket. He then ran her hand down his chest and stopped when it rested on his hip bone. His lips were hot against her cheek. "And when you touch me there," he said. "You can steal from me here." Again with his help, her hand moved to the pocket of his shendyt and felt his knife. When she removed it Bakura grabbed her wrist and her eyes darted up to meet his. "And always remember the golden rule of theft."

"What's that?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Never steal from The Thief King."

He twisted her wrist and she let out a small cry, dropping the knife into his other hand. He returned it to his pocket and while she was busy rubbing her skin, he stole back his bag of coins.

"Here," he said handing her a drink. "It'll work better if you act drunk."

He turned her around and pointed to a man across the room. "You see him?"

"The short, bald man?" Kiya asked.

Bakura nodded. "That's your target."

"I'm not sure I'm ready."

"You'll be fine." He patted her on the bottom, gently pushing her forward.

She started to walk but then stopped and turned around.

"Will you come to my defense if I'm caught?" she asked.

"I'll think about it," he said and leaned back against the table.

Kiya took a deep breath to still her mind and tried not to overthink what she was about to do. Walking over to the man she swayed her hips seductively and as she passed she gently but purposefully bumped him, spilling her drink down his chest.

"Oh!" she cried. "I'm so sorry!"

Pulling a small cloth from her pocket she began to wipe his chest.

"That's quite alright," the man said. "No harm done."

"Sometimes I'm just so clumsy!" she said.

Kiya's movements with the cloth became slower and more sensual. When she had finally finished cleaned him, she looked into the man's eyes and pressed herself closer to him, her breasts molding to his chest. "I think… something distracted me," she whispered in his ear as her hand secretly moved to his pocket.

Bakura watched his student lift the coin bag from her target's pocket and slip it into her own. The hairless man lifted his hand and placed it on her hip while his face nuzzled her neck. Bakura stood straight, his body having grown tense. Even though it was his idea, he didn't like how close she was to him or how the man lusted after her body. Restraining himself, he took another sip of wine and let her finish her task.

A few moments later Kiya pried herself from the man's embrace and returned to her captor. Bakura flung an arm around her shoulder in a form of ownership and then shot the other man a death stare. Kiya's legs were shaking but she couldn't help but feel safe in Bakura's arms.

"You have a talent," Bakura said as he guided her to a different table, out of their victim's sight.

Kiya pulled the stolen bag out of her pocket and emptied the contents onto the table, counting five gold coins.

"I can't believe I just did that – hey!" she yelled, as Bakura took one of them.

"My training fee," he smirked, flicking it with his thumb and catching it mid-air.

"That's not fair."

"Well life's not fair."

Smiling she returned the bag of coins to her pocket and placed her elbows on the table and her chin in the palm of her hands.

"What do you want to do now?" she asked.

Bakura looked outside; the night was still young.

"Why don't we play a game?" he suggested.

Kiya raised a suspicious brow. "What kind of game?"

Bakura held up his mug. "A drinking game."

 **Author's note: Uh-oh! A drinking game… that's bound to have consequences… M rated consequences… I've actually already started writing the next chapter and spoiler alert… it's going to get steamy!  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter may not be suitable for a younger audience. Parental supervision is advised.**

Day Two – Part Two

"I don't think I know any drinking games," Kiya said.

"What about two truths and a lie?" Bakura suggested.

Seeing her shrug her shoulders in ignorance he elaborated.

"It's very simple," he said. "You make three statements about yourself. Two of the statements have to be true, while one has to be a lie. If I guess your lie correctly, you have to drink. If I'm incorrect, I drink."

The barman returned with a plate of food for each of them and Kiya politely thanked him. "Alright," she then said to Bakura, "you start."

Bakura thought for a moment. Normally he played this game with Marik, who by now, knew everything about the thief. Over the years their questions had moved from family and childhood to sexual escapades and robberies gone wrong. The humorous the better. Tonight he had suggested this game because he wanted to know more about Kiya, but in return, he needed to be careful about what information he gave away about himself.

Bored with his hesitation, Kiya began to pick at the food on her plate. She chewed it slowly, savoring her only meal of the day.

"I'm twenty years old," Bakura started. "When I was a child my first friend was my neighbor's dog and the first thing I ever stole was an apple."

Studying his face, Kiya could believe them all to be true. He did not blink. He did not smile. He was a skilled liar.

"Well, you look twenty," she said. "Possibly older," she insulted. Bakura narrowed his eyes. "And I could imagine the first thing you stole to be food. So I have to believe the dog is a lie."

Bakura raised his mug as if he was about to drink but then put it back down.

"It was a loaf of bread. Drink."

"Really?" she asked, raising a suspicious brow. "What was the dog's name?"

Bakura brushed her off. "There are no follow up questions in this game," he said.

"Uh-huh," she mused.

Taking her penalty drink Kiya thought about her own statements. When her mug was back on the table she leaned forward and put on her most serious face.

"My birth name is Tadukhipa. I have one brother and one sister and I got my first job at the age of ten."

"You've never worked a day in your life," Bakura said quickly.

"Oh really?"

"Really."

"Drink," she said sternly.

Bakura took a sip. "A job doing what?" he asked.

"There are no follow up questions in this game," she parroted.

Bakura smirked, silently amused. "The dog's name was Brave One," he said.

Kiya couldn't help but laugh, wondering if Bakura had named it himself. "When my father was out of town," she began, "I used to sneak out of the house and help a local merchant gut fish at the market. He would pay me one copper coin for every twenty fish I cut."

"Why on earth would you take such a job?" Bakura asked, bewildered.

"I don't know," she said. "I just wanted to... Anyway, it didn't last very long."

"Why, what happened?"

"I returned home one day to find my father back early. Apparently he could smell me before he saw me. I don't think I'd ever seen him so mad in his life," she laughed as she reminisced. "From then on I was never allowed out of anyone's sight. 'No daughter of mine will be seen gutting fish,' he said."

"So what was the lie then?" Bakura asked. "Your name or you siblings?"

"I have one brother," she said.

"Tadukhipa," Bakura regarded. "It suits you."

Kiya smiled self-consciously. She hadn't heard someone speak her birth name in such a long time and it felt unusual, like she had stolen someone else's identity. Her mother had given her the nickname Kiya when she was a child, and somehow it had stuck over time. Even Set refused to address her as anything else.

"I believe it's your turn again," she said.

Bakura stroked his chin in thought.

Over the evening the two exchanged their truths and lies. Neither were very good at guessing the other's fabrications but they both seemingly enjoyed the game. Tired of going back and forth between their table and the bar, the barman left them with a couple of bottles of wine. Alcohol had certainly made Bakura relax after a stressful day. He knew Kiya hadn't intended to anger him as much as she did earlier, and he felt guilty having hurt her in response. Every now and then she brought her hand to her neck and subconsciously touched her bruises. She caught Bakura staring and told him it was okay. He tried to smile but it was a foreign action, one he couldn't yet master. He wouldn't admit it, but liked the fact she had a voice and was willing to stand up for herself and her beliefs. Even if they were wrong in his opinion. Despite being on opposing sides he thought they weren't too dissimilar. He'd even go as far to say that he respected her. In her situation not many woman would remain as civil and composed as her, especially when threatened with death.

Continuing with the game, Bakura was rather shocked by her statements. So far she had admitted to skinny dipping in the Nile, carving a picture of a donkey on one of the palace walls and, most amusingly, accidentally walking in on the Pharaoh changing. Bakura smirked at the realization that his hostage was drunk. Regardless, he had to ask about the Pharaoh's endowment. Blushing furiously Kiya refused to answer him but then told him, having had bathed with Bakura, that he had nothing to worry about. Bakura laughed wholeheartedly. Yes, his hostage was very, very drunk.

"Tell me about your family," she said, changing the subject.

Her words slurred and Bakura thought perhaps his would too.

"What do you want to know?" he asked.

"What were they like?"

Bakura looked down at the liquid in his mug, twirling it gently before bringing it to his mouth and drinking the rest. Noticing his silence, Kiya reached over and touched his hand.

"I'm sorry," she said for the second time that evening. "I'm truly, truly sorry."

Bakura placed his other hand on top of hers. "I know you are."

"Why did Aknam-"

"Excuse me you two," the barman interrupted, taking the empty bottles from the table. "Sorry to interrupt, but we're closing up."

Looking around Kiya realized they were the only ones left. The worker walked away, having given Kiya a few more minutes to finish her drink. To help, Bakura took her mug and poured half of her wine into his and then gave it back to her.

"Last round, Tadukhipa," he said. "Give me an easy one."

Under the table, Bakura softly ran his leg up and down against hers. Kiya didn't say anything and instead furrowed her brows as she thought of something that would amuse him.

"I was once kidnapped by a very strange man…" she began. "A man who liked to get women drunk so that their senses were impaired but... because I was a good girl, this man granted me mercy."

She was a tease, Bakura thought. Biting her bottom lip between sentences and twirling her hair on one side, exposing her silken neck. Aroused he ignored the rules and stole her drink from her hands. He drunk it himself and then finished his own. Leaning forward he whispered his own confessions. "I find you incredibly attractive."

Withdrawing his leg from hers he moved his hand under the table and placed it on her thigh.

"But you got yourself drunk." He waited for her laughter to cease before he continued. "And I think it might be wise if we slept in separate beds tonight."

Kiya leaned forward and their noses met. "The third is a lie," she whispered and Bakura threw his lips onto hers.

Their kiss was fiery. She tasted of cheap wine but Bakura assumed he did too. Biting her bottom lip, he sucked on it for a moment before breaking away at the sound of a cough. Looking up Bakura saw the barman with his hands on his hips and a disapproving look across his face.

"Take her home," he said. I'm not running a brothel."

Kiya's face reddened with embarrassment and she rubbed her lips. Bakura stood, surprisingly stable on his feet despite the amount he had drunk. Kiya on the other hand, found standing a rather difficult task. To stop her from falling, Bakura placed his arm around her waist and encouraged her to lean against him. Together they walked outside, each with their own staggered sway.

It was early morning and there was no one about, but Bakura still felt safer taking the back roads home. They hadn't been walking for long before his hand fell down from Kiya's waist and pinched her bum. Spinning around she bumped into his chest. Her laughter filled the alleyway and to keep her quiet Bakura kissed her once again. He moved a hand to her head and, to deepen the action, he gently grabbed her hair. His other hand slowly made its way to her chest and massaged her breast. Moaning, Kiya looped her arms around his neck. She pressed her body harder against his and then slowly jingled something by his ear. Bakura pulled away having realized what she had just done. Kiya broke into a fit of laughter and then, with a sly look on her face, held out his coin bag before him. Bakura tried to grab it from her but she pulled her hand away.

"What did I tell you about stealing from The Thief King?" he asked roughly.

She slipped the bag into her own pocket. "Not to do it," she said childishly.

"Exactly."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" she asked.

Intimidatingly, Bakura backed her up against the alleyway wall. With nowhere left for her to move his forehead pressed against hers and his hand found its way under her dress. He hadn't provided her any underwear when he gave her a change of clothes the day before. It wasn't intentional at the time, but he thought it was rather convenient now. Kiya moaned again as he rubbed between her folds. Taking that as permission to continue Bakura slipped a finger inside of her. In her befuddled state Kiya thought nothing of her husband as Bakura moved himself in and out of her.

"This is possibly your last night on earth, Tadukhipa," he whispered in her ear. "How do you want it to end?"

She brought a finger to her lips like she wanted to tell him a secret. Bakura leaned forward.

"I don't want it to end," she confessed.

Pulling away Bakura looked at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shimmered like diamonds in the moonlight. Devouring her lips again he slipped a second finger inside her. Kiya rocked her hips, guiding him deeper. Her head was clouded and her body felt heavy but she knew this was what she wanted. She had craved it all her life. One night of spontaneity. One night of freedom. And what better night to have it than her last.

Bakura groaned into her mouth, as he scissored his fingers inside of her core. Her body was tight and he craved her warmth. Drunk and impatient he removed his fingers from her and freed himself from his shendyt. Kiya reached out and grabbed him with one hand. At this, Bakura broke their kiss and let his head rest on her shoulder. He bit down on her skin as her hand ran up and down his member. He'd never wanted anyone more in his life. He hadn't lied when he told her he found her incredible attractive. Since their first meeting at her temple he had had to fight hard to control himself around her. He was not an advocate of rape, so the idea of her giving herself submissively to him made him want to come right there and then. Grabbing the back of her thighs he lifted her up. Kiya wrapped her legs around his hips for support and then guided him to her entrance. She rubbed his tip back and forth to show him how wet he had made her. Growling, Bakura pulled back slightly and then slammed her against the wall. Kiya lost her breath and her heart raced. That was her warning, he didn't like being teased.

"I want you inside me," she slurred, knowing that was what he wanted to hear.

"Yeah?" he asked. "How badly?"

She giggled as he kissed her neck. "More than I've ever wanted anything in my life."

Without warning Bakura entered her with one swift motion. Her body stretched to accommodate him like a welcoming host. Kiya's head fell forward and Bakura captured her lips in another kiss. His hands held her hips and his nails dug into her skin as he moved himself in and out of her. With her head spinning Kiya gripped his hair for support. Had she not been so intoxicated she would have complained that he was crushing her against the wall, but as numb as she was, all she could think of was how amazing it felt to be pressed up against him. She cried out with each thrust, encouraging him to move faster. Grunting, Bakura picked up the pace. He slammed into her roughly, over and over until suddenly he stopped.

"What's wrong?" Kiya panted. "Why did you stop?"

Bakura hushed her. Looking around his eyes darted about and then he removed himself from her body. Taking the hint, Kiya dropped her legs. She worried she had done something wrong, but then she heard what he had; voices in the distance.

"We need to go," Bakura said soberly.

Nodding in agreement, Kiya picked up his shendyt and helped him put it back on. Her hands were shaking and Bakura wasn't sure if it were her nerves, alcohol, or a mixture of the two. Bringing her hand to his lips he kissed her fingers to calm her.

"Let's finish this in my chambers," he said.

Kiya bit her bottom lip and Bakura finally produced a genuine smile.

He loved it when she did that.


	7. Chapter 7

Day Three – Part One

Bakura awoke to find Kiya wrapped in his embrace. Despite the ache in his head, a sly smile crept to his lips in remembrance of the night before. He ran his hand up and down against her back, enjoying the touch of her naked skin beneath his calloused fingers. When he kissed the top of her head she slowly began to stir.

"Good morning," he said.

Kiya moaned and nuzzled her head against his chest. "I want to die," she groaned.

The wine, though gloriously sweet at the time, had today left her with a pounding in her head and a nauseousness that seemed to worsen with movement. She hadn't realized her words were rather ironic but Bakura was well aware of what day it was, and what decision lay ahead. Brushing her hair off her face he felt her plant small kisses on his chest.

"I thought last night was a dream," she said.

"Do you regret it?" he asked.

"No," she replied.

It was true, she didn't regret it. Perhaps in a way she wished to spite her husband. Should she die at his hand at least it was her who would have the last laugh. It was Set's carelessness which forced her into Bakura's possession, and his heartlessness which drove her into his bed. Perhaps one day Set will realize his mistake, she thought. But either way, should she live or die, it'll be too late.

Bakura kissed her head once again. They lay silently in each other's arms for a while longer. Kiya's head rested over his heart and she counted each slow beat. Bakura felt her body relax and he knew she had fallen back to sleep. He had nowhere he needed to be until later that day, so her continued presence in his bed wasn't a bother. What did unsettle him though, was the thought of what he was going to do to her. He recalled her confidence the other day when she stated that Set would not part with his rod, and a part of him had known this all along. Had Bakura not gotten to know her, he wouldn't feel hesitant to kill her. Her blood would be spilled and her life would just be another on his long list of victims. But he had gotten to know her, and he had grown fond of her in their short time together. She had shared her secrets with him and her body. When faced with death a person's true character shows, and despite what she believed, Bakura knew she was strong. She had not once begged for her life, she had stood her ground and she had done so with pride. With death on her door she took it on her chin, and planned to enjoy every moment leading up to her last breath. Bakura didn't feel used by her and he hoped she didn't by him. Set was a fool and he'd come to realize it when she was no longer at his side.

* * *

On waking later that day, Kiya rolled off Bakura's body and sat upright. Bringing her knees to her chest she rested her head onto of them.

"Are you alright?" Bakura asked, having awoken from her movements.

"Mm hmm," she mumbled.

Bakura sat up too and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "You'll feel better after a bath and some food," he said and kissed her cheek. "Come."

Standing he found his clothes scattered about the room and quickly dressed. He picked up her dress and held it out for her. Kiya looked at him and, embarrassed, she clutched the sheets higher over her chest.

"Tadukhipa," he said, continuing to use her real name. "You weren't so shy last night, in fact… I do recall you even danced for me."

Kiya groaned and buried her head back between her knees and Bakura laughed loudly. Moving over to her he pushed her down on the bed and straddled her hips. His lips met hers and while he kissed her he gently pulled the sheet off her body.

"You have nothing to hide," he said, sitting back to admire her body. "You are beautiful."

Kiya cupped his cheek with her hand and guided him back to her lips. He was a lot gentler with her when he was sober and she appreciated it with the way she was feeling. He pulled away from her all too quickly and stood again, dress in hand.

Moving leisurely Kiya stood and allowed him to dress her. He put her clothes on inside out but she didn't say anything, she just appreciated the kind gesture.

Leaving his room together they wondered through the hallways, which were once again deserted.

"Where do all your men go during the day?" she inquired, thinking they weren't exactly the type of men she'd expect to have day jobs.

"To the market," Bakura said. "To sell their goods."

"Oh, you don't go with them?"

Bakura grinned. "Not when I have more important things to do."

"Things?" Kiya raised a brow.

Bakura smirked. "You know what I mean."

Pushing the door to the bathing room open Bakura let her walk in first. After locking the door he turned around and was pleasantly surprised to see Kiya standing there before him completely naked, and awaiting his further instruction. She helped him undress and once his clothes were discarded he picked her up.

Kiya wrapped her arms around his neck and kicked her legs. "Please don't throw me in again!" she pleaded.

Lowering her carefully he sat her in in the water and then joined in beside her.

"You have little faith in me," he said.

"Can you blame me?" she asked.

Bakura pulled her to his lap and she straddled his legs. He kissed the bruise on her face and then the ones on her neck.

This time when he kissed her Kiya did think of her husband, and her friends, and everyone else she was betraying by allowing this man to touch her. His soul was tainted and he had left black marks upon her body. Yet when his demeanor was calm he was not like anyone she had ever met. She thought again of his family and the story he had told. Had her Pharaoh been the one who turned this young man into a monster? Who would he have been had he not endured such hardship at such a young age?

Bakura's mouth moved to her breast and sucked on her pert nipple. Kiya rested her head against his and moaned into his thick, white hair. Her head was still pounding and it was cursing her for thinking too much. Casting all thoughts aside she chose to enjoy their intimacy, for after sundown, tomorrow may never come.


	8. Chapter 8

**A.N: I found this chapter quite difficult to write, and to be honest, I didn't spend as much time editing it as I normally do, so I hope it reads alright.**

Day Three – Part Two

When Bakura finally decided it was time to go, he took Kiya back to the dungeon she remembered all too well. She was confused at first and asked why she wasn't going with him. Bakura simply explained he needed to hear Set's decision first. Should he want her back Bakura would return to get her, but should he decide to sacrifice her, well… Kiya didn't need him to continue. When he shut the cell door the sound was like a lid being slid over her tomb, and she watched him leave without saying another word.

Preparing his horse for travel, Bakura thought about his plan of attack and mentally overcame every obstacle. Knowing the palace was expecting him he needed to be prepared to fight. He knew they would hope to trap him before he could even enter the palace, which was another reason why he wouldn't bring Kiya. If, in the unlikely event he was captured, he'd tell them his men had specific orders to kill her should he not return home that evening.

Marik came out to the stable and watched Bakura pace back and forth. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened between the two but whatever it was he could see it was taking its toll on the thief.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come?" Marik asked.

Bakura stopped pacing and looked over to his friend. "No," he said. "This is something I need to do alone."

Marik still held concerns but he nodded, knowing it would be best to keep his mouth shut.

Bakura had left much later than he had originally intended. Set was expecting him at sundown but night had fallen too quickly and he hadn't quite been ready to leave his bed, or more likely, woman in it. He rode through the desert quickly all the while thinking about her. It was hard not to. Her unexpected presence had made him reflect on a lot of things, namely his family and his untold desire to have one.

When he reached the outskirts of the city Bakura left his horse at the top of the hill and chose to walk the remainder of the way. He pulled the hood of his robe over his head and blended into the shadows. He'd left his usual red coat at home and instead wore a dark brown one, for once he didn't wish to make a scene.

Approaching the palace he saw it was heavily guarded (as he'd expected). He scanned the area and thought the best way to enter would be through the gardens. Instinctively he pulled his knife from his pocket he clutched it firmly in his hand then headed to the west side of the palace. There was a small entrance way there usually only guarded by two. He waited for the pair to become distracted, which didn't take long. They'd been expecting him much earlier and had some hours ago lost their patience. Bakura crept up and before either could notice he slit one man's throat and then the other. There was no sympathy on his face was he looked at their lifeless bodies. Life was a game of survival, and in a game, sacrifices have to be made in order to win.

Inside the palace, Set retired to his chambers having grown tired of waiting for the thief to show. Neither had agreed on where to meet but Set had assumed he would be caught trying to enter the palace with Kiya. Strict orders were placed to alert Set as soon as Bakura was discovered. Surprisingly, Set was growing anxious. He couldn't help but wonder if Bakura had killed her already and having nothing to bargain with decided not to show. Kiya was quite verbal when she wanted to be and it wouldn't have been unusual to hear that that had been her downfall. Set dismissed the guards that stood watch at his door and it wasn't until he was inside that he realized his mistake.

"Good evening, Set," an all too familiar voice greeted.

"Bakura!" Set growled through clenched teeth. "How did you get in here?" His eyes darted about the room. The torches on the wall provided enough light to show Kiya was not with him. "Where's my wife?"

"Don't worry, she's safe," Bakura said. Then added. "…for now."

"Stop this game immediately! I demand you return her to me."

"Then you know what to give me."

Set's hand went instinctively to his rod which was secured against his hip. He removed it and held it out to Bakura, not as an offering but rather a threat. The item glowed and so did Bakura. A smirk crept across the thief's face and very soon the rod began to flicker and then the light faded.

"Your magic does not affect me Set."

Growling, Set lowered the rod. The thief was strong, in more ways than Set could imagine. His power didn't come from the items like the Guardians. It was a power within his soul. A power as dark as day is light.

Bakura took a step forward but Set stood his ground, even as he noticed small specks of blood scattered across Bakura's cloak.

"Where is my wife?" Set asked again.

"First give me the rod and then I will return your wife. That was the deal."

Bakura took another step forward, twirling the knife in his hand. Though he had tried to clean it on the clothes of the deceased, a red hue remained. This time Set did step back. He was defenseless, bar his rod, which as he had just discovered was practically useless. If worst came to worse he could fight, disarm Bakura, and kill him with his own weapon. But if he did that he knew he'd never see Kiya again. Then again, if he refused to make the trade, she'd still die. And if he handed over the rod, he was certain Bakura would kill her anyway. The word of a thief is no word at all. To Set, there appeared no way out. Kiya's fate was sealed the day Bakura entered her temple.

Bakura held out his free hand. "Give me the rod, Set."

Set clutched the item in his hand. Sweat formed above his lip and despite his quiver his answer was forceful. "No."

The priest's decision still surprised Bakura even after Kiya had predicated it. Perhaps he had misheard. He raised a single brow and repeated: "No?"

"You heard me, I said my answer is no. The Millennium Rod shall never fall to into your hands, neither through blackmail nor by any other means."

Anger erupted inside of Bakura at the priest's stubbornness. "I've given you time to reconsider yet you chose to give me the same answer! Do I need to remind you what is at stake here?"

"Kiya will understand."

Bakura shook his head and let out a low laugh. "Will she now?" he asked.

"Kiya would be honored to sacrifice herself knowing her death would ensure the safety of Egypt and its people."

After he finished, Set swallowed a lump in his throat. He knew saying it didn't make it true and his speech had barely convinced him let alone Bakura.

"I see…" Bakura trailed off. He stayed for a few more seconds, waiting for Set to change his mind.

But he didn't.

Eventually the thief took his leave. He went out the same way he came in, over the balcony, and he was far across the gardens before Set had called for his guards.

* * *

The ride back home felt long. The stars flickered in the sky like candles that were about to die, and to Bakura they appeared to be laughing at him. When he made it home he hopped off his horse and locked it in its pen without removing its reigns. His mind was too preoccupied replaying the same conversation with Set over and over. That man was heartless yet _he_ was the criminal. Bakura paced back and forth in the same fashion he did earlier. A familiar anger brewed within and he punched the nearest wall. Cracks scattered from his fist and blood seeped from his knuckles but he felt no pain there, only in his heart. He didn't want to kill Kiya but Set had left him no choice. Her life, that was what he had bargained with, and he would appear weak should he not go through with his threat.

 _How did this happen?_ He thought. This had all seemed very simple three days ago. _She is a woman. Just a stupid woman. Why should I care if she lives or dies?_

Convincing himself she meant nothing to him, Bakura marched through the building and went straight to the dungeon. He opened the wooden door and walked down the stairs. Kiya looked up from her cell and Bakura's facial expression told her everything she needed to know. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach and her body began to shake.

"No…" she whispered and shook her head. "No…"

In a way she had hoped she would have been proven wrong. That Set would have done the right thing. That, for once, he would have put someone else's needs... his _wife's_ needs... before his own. Kiya pressed her back up against the wall, out of fear and for the support it provided her failing legs.

Bakura took the key from his pocket and opened the cell door. Kiya fell to the floor and rested her head between her knees. Tears escaped her eyes but she wasn't crying she was… laughing?

A hysterical laughed erupted from her mouth. She couldn't help it and she just let it out. Perhaps the last few days had made her crazy. Perhaps Bakura had made her crazy.

Putting his rage on hold Bakura watched her for a moment. He wanted to pick her up and take her to his room. Throw her on the bed and have his way with her one last time. _Would she let me?_ he thought. Would she let the hands that were soon to kill her touch her tenderly first?

 _She's making you weak._

No, he decided. This needs to end.

Taking her by the wrist he dragged her to her feet and out of the cell. Kiya tried to fight him off but he held her tighter. She pounded at his back with her spare hand, yelling at him to let her go, finally breaking and pleading for her life. Bakura took her out to the stables and pushed her to the ground. Her knees and elbows grazed on impact. Flinching she tried to stand but Bakura pushed her down yet again. He raised his foot and stomped on her chest.

She lay still; defeated.

The only movement was the rapid rising and falling of her chest as her breath refused to steady. Then their eyes met. Bakura saw fear in hers and Kiya was certain she saw the same emotion in his. He finally removed his foot and pulled the knife from his coat.

"Get on your knees," he ordered and Kiya did as she was told.

Bakura grabbed a lock of her hair and crouched down behind her. Pulling her head back he exposed her neck, the same neck he had planted kisses on that morning. Shaking his head violently the image scrambled. He pressed the knife against her skin. Hesitating, he readjusted his fingers around the handle.

"Just get it over with," Kiya spat.

Bakura was surprised by her final words. Where was her fighting spirit? Had she given up hope? Did she really have any reason to keeping holding on?

He closed his eyes and pulled the blade across her skin. Her throat slit open easily and he felt her warm blood cover his hand like a glove. He let go of her hair and she fell to the ground. Blood pooled around her head, slowly soaking into the sand. She didn't move. Her eyes were closed but he could still feel her stare. Those grey eyes would haunt him forever.

"Bakura?" she asked.

He opened his eyes.

He hadn't done it. She was still there. Her body still warm and her back pressed against his chest, her breath on his arm. He tried again and pressed the blade harder. It moved gently with the pulse of her vein but that was the only movement it would permit. He couldn't do it, he couldn't find the strength. Sighing heavily he withdrew his weapon.

Feeling his release, Kiya wanted to look over her shoulder but she was too afraid to move.

"Get up," he said.

She jumped.

 _Perhaps he is going to get someone else to kill me,_ she thought. _Maybe the blond man._ She was still on her knees when he growled again.

"Hurry up, before I change my mind."

Scrambling to her feet she watched him open the stable door and usher one of his horses out. The animal approached Kiya and she ran her shaking hand over its nose. The animal sensed her fear and hoped to comfort her by nuzzling her neck. Bakura handed her the reigns. Reluctantly, Kiya took them from him but before she could ask anything Bakura cut her off with a kiss. He could feel her tremble beneath his lips but she didn't push him away. He ran his hands up and down the side of her body, hoping to memorize every curve. Out of breath, they stopped but their lips still touched.

"Set doesn't deserve you," Bakura whispered.

"I don't understand," she said.

He placed a hand on her cheek and pressed his nose against hers. "Go. Head north. If anyone asks, you managed to escape before I returned."

"Bakura I-"

He kissed her again, this time with more force.

Was it too late to change his mind? He didn't want to kill her, but he didn't want her to go either. The horse neighed impatiently and the two broke apart for the final time.

"Thank you," Kiya said.

Bakura lifted her up and helped her onto the horse. They looked at each other but there was nothing more to say.

Marik came out in time to see Kiya riding off in the distance. He looked at Bakura quizzically.

"Follow her," Bakura said. "Make sure she doesn't talk."


	9. Chapter 9

Day Three – Part Three

Kiya rode through the desert across the same path Bakura had traveled earlier, and unbeknownst to her, Marik followed some distance behind. Her hands clutched the reigns with as much strength as her trembling hands could muster. She had never been a confident rider but it's surprising what your body can do under duress. The dark of the desert faded as the light of the city emerged in the distance. The palace stood where it always had, prominent at the head of the metropolis. It looked smaller than she remembered, almost trivial to one whose life has passed before their eyes. Coming into the main streets Kiya didn't slow her pace. In fact, she shook the reigns to encourage the horse to go faster. Having recognized her, a few citizens whispered to one another as she passed, and Kiya wondered how much they really knew. It wouldn't have been surprising for the Guardians to keep her disappearance a secret. They wouldn't wish to reveal the shortcomings of their leadership, it would surely only cause panic in an already unstable environment.

Marik fell off her trail, not wanting to follow her through the center of the city. Directing his horse, he continued around the outskirts of the city. His route was longer but he didn't care. Her arrival would surely cause a commotion, making it that much easier for him to sneak in unnoticed.

A sigh escaped Kiya's lips as the palace gates came into view. The guards on duty corrected their posture and drew their weapons seeing a shadowy figure approaching at full speed.

"Halt!" the head guard yelled, holding his hand out. "Who goes there?"

The others formed a line beside him, creating a barricade to stop the intruder. Kiya pulled on the reigns to slow the horse and then stopped only a few feet away. When she tried to lower herself from the horse she realized her legs were unresponsive and she fell to the ground in a heavy thud.

"Good Gods," a guard whispered and ran to her aid.

Kiya tried to move but the ability was denied. She tried to talk, to explain what had happened, but she could voice nothing more than a soft stammer. The guard knelt down in front of her, but because of her stature he was hesitant to touch her. He studied her face. It was dirty, swollen and bruised, but he could tell who she was. Her grey eyes were glazed with tears upon the realization she had made it. She was home.

"Summon the High Priest," the guard cried. "Tell him his wife has returned!"

The other guards looked at each other, not quite believing what they were hearing.

"Go, now!" he yelled again.

…

Set had been lying on his bed for the past half hour. The Millennium Rod rested on his chest, heavy, like the burden it was. Closing his eyes once again, he relaxed his muscles, hoping to meet the sleep that had so far refused to visit. Plagued with guilt, memories of Kiya, once forgotten, flooded back with a vengeance. His favorite was their wedding day. He had been so nervous but as soon as he saw her all his worries seemed to leave. He could remember so clearly the way she walked down the aisle, light and breezy, as if she were floating on air. She was dressed in a traditional Egyptian gown; white, decorated with skillful needlework patterns than ran from the top to the bottom. The dress was long, so long that the material dragged on the floor behind her. A shawl covered her entire face except for her eyes. It was embellished with gold sequins and beads that hung above her forehead. Adorning her body was more gold; collars and bracelets each containing more precious stones. When she stood in front of him her eyes held so much hope for the future. He took her hands in his and admired the intricate henna that had been decorated on her the evening before. She smiled at him as he promised to love and care for her as long as they both should live. A promise, too soon broken.

A savage beating on his door dissolved the memory. Cursing Set stood, ready to throttle whoever dared disturb him at this hour. Opening his door he came face to face with a young, nervous guard.

"I'm sorry to disturb you High Priest," he bowed as low as he could.

"Spit it out," Set ordered.

"It-it's y-your wife," he stuttered. "She's returned."

...

Marik tied his horse to a tree and climbed over the palace wall without being seen. As he had predicted, Kiya's return had created the ideal distraction. He walked casually through the gardens pondering the best way to get up to the High Priest's room. Bakura's decision to release the girl was still a mystery to Marik. Thinking about it, Bakura wouldn't have let her go if he thought she would reveal the location of their hideout. But then why was he here? For whatever reason, Bakura wanted to know what she said about him. Or perhaps, Marik thought, he just wanted to make sure she was safe.

…

Set hadn't realized he'd been running until found himself catching his breath at the front of the palace. The guards had gotten Kiya through the gates but she had refused their help any further.

"Kiya!" Set called when he saw her.

On seeing her husband Kiya was struck by mixed emotions. She had thought the sight of him would leave her repulsed but a part of her craved his stability.

"Leave us," Set ordered the guards.

They were reluctant to but no one dared defy his order. Set crouched down and cradled his wife's face. It was really her. She was alive, but how?

"I managed to escape," she said, as if reading his mind.

Set was taken aback by her words. She was a delicate woman, not one he imagined could hold her own in a fight, nor one capable of outsmarting the thief. Regardless, it was not the time to ask questions and Set took her in his arms and carried her inside.

…

Marik made it to the High Priest's quarters before they returned. Resisting the urge to pick up some souvenirs he stepped out onto the balcony, hidden from view but still within earshot.

There he waited.

…

The palace was abuzz with the news of her return but Kiya heard none of it as Set took her straight to their room and lay her on the bed. A healer was called to look her over but she protested profusely, saying she was fine and that all she needed to do was rest. Being unable to convince his wife otherwise Set dismissed the healer, and once they were alone he approached the subject Kiya was expecting.

"How did you escape?" he asked.

Kiya had played this conversation over in her mind on her journey home yet she was confident no matter what she said he'd doubt her honesty.

"I was locked in a dungeon," she began, fiddling anxiously with her hands. Set watched her from beside the bed. His eyes were tired but confronting. Not wishing to see his eyes upon her, Kiya got up and walked across the room, turning her back on her husband; it was easier to lie to him that way. "I knew Bakura had left to meet you, it was late and one of his men came to bring me food. He opened the cell door and I knew this was my only chance to escape. I took the clip from my hair," she turned around and looked at him. "The green butterfly one you gave me-"

Set nodded remembering the item she spoke of. It was a golden piece, with two long spikes used to twist the hair into a bun. A convenient weapon.

Kiya continued. "Well, the man knelt to place the food in front of me and when his head was down I stabbed him with my clip... as hard as I could in his neck. He stumbled. I didn't kill him, I'm sure of it, but I was able to push past him and escape the dungeon."

"And you didn't run into anyone on your way out?" Set queried.

"No, Bakura hadn't returned so the place was empty."

Set nodded again. "Can you remember where this place is?"

Kiya shook her head. "No it was too dark, and I can barely remember anything of the ride home other than the sheer terror I felt that someone would catch me."

"Where did you get the horse?" Set asked.

"It was tied out the front of the building."

"Fully saddled?"

Kiya could head the doubt in his voice. "Yes," she said. "The gods were watching over me. I am truly blessed."

Marik, who was still listening in on the conversation, had to stifle a laugh. He had to admit this girl was a good liar.

Kiya brought a hand to her head and ran her fingers through her hair. "Set, I am so very tired. Could we possibly continue this conversation in the morning?"

"Of course," he said.

When she turned around again it was only then that he noticed her clothing. How hadn't he seen it before? Her jewellery had gone -that was to be expected- but she was not in her usual attire. Instead she sported a simple cream dress cut short over her knee.

"Kiya?"

"Yes, Set."

"What happened to your clothes?"

"Bakura gave me this dress and told me to change," she said without a falter in her voice. "I think he must have wanted to sell the material from my other one."

"I see." Set moved forward to examine the dress. On closer inspection he noticed it was dirty but there was not a speck of blood on it, nor on her hands. Had she stabbed this man like she said, surely there would be more evidence.

Kiya tried to move away from him but Set grabbed her by her wrist. "Let me look at you," he said.

Cupping her face with his other hand Set's thumb caressing her bruised cheek. He saw her flinch, the pain as real as the memory. His hands traveled down to her neck to where the same dark marks appeared. However, here there were four bruises on the right and a shorter one on the left. The thief's hand print. Had he tried to choke her? Kiya's heart-rate picked up from the way Set was looking at her. Set could feel her blood pumping beneath his fingers when another memory flashed before him, this one more recent.

 _'Three days," Bakura said. "Then we will speak again. In the meantime your wife can warm my bed.'_

Without realizing Set's grip tightened around her neck.

"Set…" Kiya groaned, trying to free herself from his grasp. "You're hurting me."

His hand withdrew from her neck but he didn't let go of her wrist.

"Did he rape you?" Set asked.

For the first time that evening, Kiya told the truth. "No, he didn't."

Set's eyes narrowed. His wife's usually readable face was now cold and impassive. A trick she had learned from the thief perhaps, or the sign of a lie? He wasn't sure but he intended to find out. Pulling her dress up Set moved his hand between her legs.

"Do not move," Set growled as she tried to pull away.

Kiya stopped squirming and obeyed her husband, wincing as he shoved two fingers inside of her. Averting his gaze she stared blankly at the wall. His fingers moved around for a moment and when he finally removed them he rubbed them against his thumb. Looking back at him, Kiya could see what coated his fingers; the evidence of her crime.

Set slapped her harder than he intended. A burning consumed her cheek but she did not cry. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.

"Is that why you are here?" he interrogated. "Did you trade your body for your freedom?"

"What does it matter to you?" she spat.

Set shook his finger in her face like he was telling off a disobedient child. "It matters because you are my _wife_!"

"You mean I'm your property," she retorted.

Set looked at her with disgust. "How _dare_ you speak to me like that?"

Kiya finally managed to free herself from his grip. "I will speak to you however I please. You left me to die!"

Set's hand caressed the gold against his hip. "Your life was not worth jeopardizing the safety of Egypt!"

No amount of abuse Kiya had suffered from Bakura hurt her as much as that did.

"What is it worth then, huh?"

Set had no answer for her.

"Huh?" she coaxed.

Set walked to the door and Kiya knew exactly where he was going to go.

"Bakura told me the Pharaoh destroyed his village," she blurted out.

Set's hand stopped on the door handle. _'Of course he did,'_ he thought.

"He said that the souls of his family were used to make the Millennium Items," Kiya continued. "Tell me that's not true."

"You're out of line, Kiya," Set growled.

"Then tell me he's mistaken!" she screamed.

"The only mistake," Set snapped. "Was that the Pharaoh's army did not burn him with the others!"

Kiya's hand covered her mouth to suppress her gasp. Bakura had been telling the truth all along, which meant everything she had ever known was a lie.

Set opened the door but before he left he turned back to her. "We will discuss your adultery in the morning. In the meantime, clean yourself up, you look and smell like a whore."


	10. Chapter 10

**This chapter is dedicated to Anuk-Su-Namum-Motou, for always believing in me, even when I don't believe in myself!**

Chapter Ten

So this is Kisara, Bakura thought as he watched her from the shadows. The woman who carries the spirit and soul of the Blue Eyes White Dragon. She wasn't as beautiful as Bakura had imagined her to be. For Set to cheat on his wife, he had visualised a goddess. Someone who could lure unwary priests with her luscious lips and full breasts. But this girl was hardly a siren. She was pale, almost sickly, with silver hair and strange blue orbs. In Bakura's eyes her beauty was nothing to Kiya's, but then on further thinking, perhaps her beauty was in fact her soul.

Inching slightly closer Bakura could tell that Set and Kisara were talking, but he couldn't quite make out what they were saying, though from the look on both their faces it appeared to be a serious discussion.

Two and a half months had passed since Bakura let Kiya go, and not a day went by that he did not regret that decision. She would never know this, but he often came to the palace to see her. He would watch her from afar, fighting the urge to steal her away once again. Tonight was the first night Bakura had followed Set instead, and watching him now with his mistress, he felt guilty for not having freed Kiya when he had the chance.

 _Two months earlier – the night of Kiya's return_

 _There was a sturdy knock at the door._

 _"Come in," Bakura said._

 _On his command Marik entered his leader's chambers and shut the door behind him. Bakura was sitting on his bed, knife in hand, sharpening it skilfully with a stone. "What happened?" he asked._

 _"She is still alive, if that's your concern," Marik said keeping close to the door. It wasn't that he was afraid of Bakura; he just knew he was not one for lengthy conversations._

 _Bakura seemed satisfied she was safe but he had never doubted otherwise. "And what did she tell them?"_

 _"Exactly what you told her to."_

 _Bakura raised a curious brow. "And Set?"_

 _"Didn't believe her."_

 _Skeptical as ever, he thought and lowered his head. There was a silence that was soon replaced by the clatter of stone on Bakura's blade as he continued his work. Marik had expected Bakura to say something but when he didn't he continued. "He hit her," he said._

 _Though it was to be expected Bakura's strokes with the stone became harder and more prominent. He cast the image of Kiya aside for a moment and focused solely on his blade. He needed it to be in prime condition; sharp enough for the day it would plunge into the neck of that priest. Marik still lingered. "Anything else?" Bakura barked._

 _"She asked about your village." Marik added. "About whether or not Aknamkanon ordered the massacre."_

 _"He lied I presume?" said Bakura but Marik shook his head._

 _"It's not too late you know," Marik said._

 _"What's not?" Bakura asked._

 _"To go back and get her."_

 _"I don't want her," he retorted and finally stopped sharpening his blade. To test it, he ran his thumb along the edge ever so softly. A small amount of blood was drawn and trickled down his hand. Bakura watched the way it stained his skin. Even after such a short time it had left its mark._

That day, Bakura had barely convinced himself let alone Marik that his feelings for the priest's wife were nothing but physical, but when he looked to the future he refused to see himself with a wife until his revenge was complete. If it were a sacrifice then so be it. There were some things in life more important than love.

Bakura stayed for a few more minutes. He watched Set remove Kisara's clothes, and then he left.

…

The following evening Bakura and his fellow thieves raided a wealthy merchant in the north. Bakura hadn't intended to kill him but in but the process of tying him up, the man had made some crude remark that caused Bakura to lose his temper. So while Bakura's men raided the home, Bakura took pleasure in releasing some tension and hacking the man to pieces.

When the man in question was no longer recognisable, or more accurately, when Bakura finally calmed down, he took a cloth from his pocket and wiped his face. The man's blood had speared across his skin, and he could taste the metallic blood on his lips. He kicked what was left of the body on the ground and then went in search of water. The merchant's maids had been frightened off by Bakura's men, and a man with the means to finance three maids would surely have water on hand. He went into the kitchen and sure enough found a pale. It was almost empty but there was enough to wash his hands and face. He felt no need to rush. He and his men had been relatively quiet and as for the escaped maids, well, occasionally one would choose to seek help, but from the bruises Bakura had seen on their faces, he knew these girls wouldn't return to save their master. Bakura knelt down and wet his cloth. Bringing it to his face he tried to wash the blood off for it was now stinging his eyes. He dipped the cloth back into the pale and rinsed it out, washing his hands in the process. It was then he realised how quiet the house had become. He looked around. His men had left and were most likely waiting for him by their horses for his next command. With one last splash of water on his face, Bakura stood and made his way outside. He was right; his men were he expected, however, they looked very suspicious, huddled together, whispering among themselves. Being exceptionally quiet, Bakura crept forward.

"I don't think we should."

"Yeah, did you see what he did to that man in there? Do you want that to be you?"

"He probably wouldn't even care."

"What do you think Marik; do you think we should tell Bakura?"

"Tell me what?" Bakura interrupted.

Hearing the aggression in Bakura's voice, the men scattered apart like frightened mice. All but one stared at their feet, mumbling under their breath. Eventually Marik stepped forward and placed his hand on Bakura's shoulder, directing him away from the others. Bakura could hear the sighs of relief from the other men, thankful Marik had decided to be the one to break the news.

"What's going on?" Bakura growled. He didn't like the idea of his men conspiring behind his back; he was in a right mood and wouldn't hesitate to knock them all off should he have any doubt about their loyalty to him.

"On his way here," Marik said, "Pentu claims to have seen Kiya fleeing the palace."

"Kiya?" Bakura asked. He hadn't heard her name spoken aloud by another in such a long time. "Is he sure it was her?"

Marik nodded then asked, "What do you want to do?"

Bakura looked at his blood covered clothes, he was hardly in any state to see her but did he really have any other choice? What if she had gone in search of him? What if she was in trouble? "Call it a night." Bakura said. "And take everyone home."

"You're going after her?" Marik asked, but he already knew the answer.

"I want to know where she's going."

Bakura spoke to Pentu, who told him where he had last seen Kiya, what she was wearing, and in what direction she appeared to be traveling. When they parted, Bakura took his horse and rode as quickly as he could. She was headed east from the palace, which was not exactly en-route to his hideout. If it was not to him she was going to, then whom? Did she have another lover? Perhaps Set was not the only one fooling around. The very thought of her in the arms of another man disgusted Bakura. Sure, she was not the most faithful wife but he refused to believe her to be Egypt's whore. When he made it as far as he believed she could have gone on foot, Bakura got down from his horse and scanned his surroundings. Kiya wouldn't take the main roads, he had taught her that, but she didn't know the streets of Egypt the way he did and that would be her downfall. Bakura climbed up the side of a near building and once on the roof he took another look around. It was late, mid-morning possibly and the streets were quiet. He noticed a few people about; drunks mainly and the odd street worker. Like a stray cat, he jumped from one roof to the next, checking each street and each alleyway as he went. He had hopped at least a dozen rooves when he saw a woman rushing by. He crouched down in order to not be seen. She appeared lost as she came to a cross road. Her hands held the side of her hood as she looked around and then decided to go right.

"Tadukhipa," Bakura whispered to himself. "Where exactly are you going?"

Kiya was growing wary. The streets were a lot harder to navigate than she thought, and she knew she didn't have a lot of time left before Set woke and found her missing. This was her only chance, she could not turn back now. Taking another right turn she ran as far as she could before she realised it was a dead end. Growling, she turned around only to bump into a man who had appeared almost magically before her. In any normal circumstance Kiya would have screamed, but she knew this man and he happened to be the one person she had hoped to avoid. Before she could stop him he pulled the hood off her head and the shawl down from around her face. "So it is you," he said.

"Bakura…" she whispered.

He looked at the bag she was carrying. "Running away?" he asked.

Kiya wanted to tell him it was none of his business but that was far from the truth, so instead she remained silent. As if robbing her, Bakura grabbed her bag and opened it up. His hand rummaged through the clothes and beneath that, the jewellery she had taken. There seemed to be more jewellery than clothes, perhaps she had planned to sell it. Tonight was a rare occasion where Bakura had no desire to take the gold. Instead, he tossed the bag aside as if it had contained rubbish. The only thing he wanted was standing patiently in front of him, but of course he would never admit that. So he decided to do what he does best: interrogate.

"What do you think your husband will do when he realises you're missing, hmm?" Bakura asked, but Kiya kept mute. "I suspect he will come for me, thinking I had something to do with it." Bakura cornered her and Kiya couldn't help but think that the last time he had her with her back against a wall; it was a much more pleasant scenario. "Is that what you want?" he asked. Bakura was growing tired of her silence and so he pulled his knife from his pocket. Kiya didn't flinch even as he pressed it to her neck; she knew he would never be capable to killing her. Bakura brought his lips to her ear. "I think he would be most upset."

"Well," Kiya said, quite matter of fact-ly. "I think he would be even more upset if I stayed at the palace and he found out I was carrying another man's child."

Bakura pulled away sharply, jerking, as if her words had punched him in the face. He licked his lips, had they always been so dry? Maybe he had misheard her. He lowered his knife. "What did you just say?"

Kiya tried to look anywhere but his face. It was drained of colour and he looked like he was going to be sick. The very thought of vomit nauseated her. "I said," she swallowed a lump in her throat. "That I am carrying another man's child."

"M-mine?" Bakura stuttered.

Kiya wanted to scream 'Yes, of course it's yours!' but she couldn't bring herself to speak. Closing her eyes, she nodded. The pregnancy had come as a shock to her and she hadn't told anyone. Well, aside from him now. She was too scared. More than scared, she was terrified! The thought of having a child was difficult enough to grasp without the added worry of it being with a man you barely knew let alone a man who was not your husband. She had broken her vows and she had sinned. Now all she wanted was for Bakura to hug her, to tell her everything would be alright and that he would look after her. But he just stood there watching her cry, struggling to comprehend what she had just said. She was with child. His child. But how could she be sure? How did she know it was his? He shook the doubt from his mind. Of course it was his. She wouldn't lie about that. She wouldn't give up her life at the palace if it wasn't. Her quiet sobs tore at his heart. It shouldn't be like this, he thought. **_She's making you weak_.** But he ignored the voice. Placing his hand on her shoulder he spoke her name softly. When she opened her eyes he looked to her stomach. "May I?" he asked.

She followed his eyes down. "Sure," she said, "But there's not much there."

Kiya opened her robe and Bakura placed his hands on her stomach. She was right, she was barely showing but there was a slight swell he did not remember. His chin rested against her forehead and he kissed the top of her head. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bakura removed his hands and re-tied her robe.

"Were you coming to tell me?" he asked.

"No," Kiya answered honestly. "I didn't think you'd want to know."

Saddened, Bakura kissed her head once again and then turned his back to her. He walked away slowly but stopped when he reached her bag. He picked it up, flung it over his shoulder, and kept walking. When Kiya didn't follow he turned back to her. "Are you coming or not?" he asked.

 **Author's note: Okay, so in case you aren't already aware, I'm a bit of a psychopathic writer and by that I mean I like to ruin people's lives. So please note, that in any story you may read from me it's probably not going to turn out the way you think. I like to surprise, I like to shock, and I like it when my readers walk away going "Wow, I wasn't expecting that!" So please bear that in mind when you continue to read this story.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven (FanFiction, why won't you let me center this? Grr!)**

 **Caution: This chapter contains feelings and emotions - blurgh!**

By the time Kiya and Bakura returned home it was exceptionally late, and the only one still up and about was Marik. He nodded to the two as they walked past him in the hall, all the while trying to hide the look of amusement that was quickly forming on his face. So Bakura had found her, he thought to himself. It hadn't taken him long. He swore that that thief had the ability to track people faster and more efficiently than any hunting dog could. Furthermore, he had a knack for being able to see the truth in people, and if he had decided to bring the Priest's wife back into his life, he must have deemed her to be of good character. Either that, Marik mused, or he just wanted to fuck her senseless one last time.

Bakura escorted Kiya back to his chambers, although she remembered all too well where it was from the last time she was there. When they got inside she was surprised at how Bakura babied her; helping her into his bed, fluffing her pillow, asking her if she was okay and if she needed anything else. He seemed different somehow, nicer, and a lot more composed. To be honest, this side of him worried her more than his usual indignant demeanour. At least when he was angry she knew what to expect. But now as he sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair behind her ear Kiya had no idea how to react. So she studied his face and how tired he looked. Taking her hand Bakura squeezed it gently. "Get some sleep," he said.

Kiya looked saddened. "You're not staying?"

He squeezed her hand again. "I'll be back soon, there's just… something I need to do first."

Without word, Kiya nodded and then watched him change out of his blood stained clothes before he left. When she was alone she rolled onto her side and clutched the pillow. Everything seemed so surreal, like an illusion, or a dream she knew she could wake from if only she could will her mind hard enough. Despite his sudden and unexpected change in manner, Kiya still wasn't sure being with him was what she wanted. Her attraction towards him had been purely physical at the time of her capture, with maybe a hint of revenge among the mix, and she had only been emotionally tied, guilty almost, after having heard the story of his family.

"Family," she whispered. A word she would soon know the true meaning of. She would learn to love unconditionally, to put another human being's needs above her own. A child needs a father as much as a mother, and she couldn't deprive her child of knowing their father more than she could deprive Bakura of knowing his child. But Bakura and his… _lifestyle_ … didn't exactly cater to the care and welfare of a baby. Would they stay here? _Could_ she stay here? And raise her child among these criminals? But really what did it matter is she were here or there? The trade would be in their child's blood anyway. Kiya turned over, a sense of dread washing over her. She rested her arm over her eyes and yawned widely. Though she was exhausted, both mentally and physically, she knew sleep would not come easily tonight.

...

Marik lay on his back, his hands clutched to the hips of the young woman who ground herself against his. He grunted when she picked up the pace, supporting her as she lifted herself up and down over his member. Through half closed eyes he could see her large breasts bouncing about with each movement. He felt the need to reach up and grab one but he really couldn't be bothered. Closing his eyes fully he let the sensation of sex wash over his body. Without even doing anything he was close to his release. The woman tried to encourage him on but her voice was more off putting than anything. He tried to block her out and so he focused on his breath. It was fast but rigid. The deprivation of oxygen was helping to pump adrenaline throughout his body. His mind went cloudy, sweat formed across his brow. Yes, he was close, very, very close. And then, much to his disappointment, there was a loud banging on the door.

The woman stopped suddenly, shaken by the noise. Marik grumbled and pushed her off him. He knew it was Bakura, it had to be; that man always had the worst timing. Grabbing his shendyt off the floor, Marik wrapped it back around his waist, his erection gone as quickly as it came. Marik looked back to the woman in his bed, whose naked body was now covered by his sheets. He opened the door and, as expected, Bakura stood on the other side.

"Shouldn't you be doing what I'm trying to do?" Marik growled.

Bakura looked into the room and at the frazzled blonde woman in Marik's bed. Without caring he pulled Marik into the hallway, slamming the door behind them. Bakura continued to drag Marik down the hall until he deemed it a safe enough place as any to talk. There were no pleasantries, he just cut right to the chase. "She's pregnant."

"Who?" Marik asked ignorantly.

"Tadukhipa," Bakura said in an aggravated whisper.

"What?" Marik said, genuinely shocked. Between the two of them Marik had always assumed he would be the first to bear a bastard child. He raised a brow. "Are you sure?"

Bakura crossed his arms. "That's what she told me."

"And you believe her?" he queried. "And more importantly, you believe it's yours?"

Bakura remembered back to when he placed his hands on her body and felt the gentle curve of her stomach. He wasn't a midwife but the change to her body was evident even to him after not having seen her for a few months. And in her attempt to flee, forlorn of hope, she had proved to him the baby was his, as she was not just running away to have the child, she was running away to _protect_ that child. For if Set had ever found out the baby was not his, Bakura knew the priest wouldn't hesitate to cut it from her body before it was even born. Just the very thought made Bakura's blood boil and only when his fists clenched did he realise he hadn't yet answered Marik's questions. "I do," he said simply.

Marik rubbed his chin in thought. "Do you want my advice?"

"Yes," Bakura said all too eagerly.

"You're not going to like it," Marik warned.

"I don't care, just tell me."

"You shouldn't have slept with her."

Bakura's eyes narrowed. "That's not advice, Marik," he spat.

"I told you you weren't going to like it."

Bakura jostled him and raised his voice. "Marik this is serious!"

Marik couldn't help but laugh. Bakura, the country's most dangerous criminal, was now clinging to him with sheer terror plastered across his face. The man could take on one hundred armed men, single handed, yet the idea of fathering a child was the only thing to ever terrorise him.

"Why are you laughing? This isn't funny!" Bakura said, pulling out his knife like he always did when someone dared mock him.

"No, no, you're right," Marik agreed, still trying to stifle his laughter. He cleared his throat. "You're right. It's not funny."

Bakura lowered his weapon and then asked, "What do I do?"

"Well…" Marik thought seriously this time. "Do you want this child?"

It was a stupid question really because Marik already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear Bakura say it aloud and for him to hear himself say it too. Most who thought they knew Bakura would think of him as a loner, one who despised the company of others, but he hadn't always been that way and quite frankly, he didn't want to be that way. Bakura had lost his family at an age where no child should have had to experience that kind of grief. It had left him with a hole in his heart, one he had hoped to fill when he avenged his family's deaths. Though no matter how much blood he shed over the years the void only grew, and Marik knew for a fact that the only thing that would fill it would be the love from another person.

"Of course I do," Bakura said. He would love this child more than his own life, and in turn, he would love Kiya for bearing him that child.

"Then there is nothing to do but tell her how you feel," said Marik.

Bakura knew he was right, there wasn't anything he specifically _needed_ to do, other than to be there for her. If they were supportive of each other the rest would come naturally. Though the thought of expressing his feeling to a woman he barely knew seemed a far too daunting task.

"She's probably as scared as you," Marik tried to reassure him when he saw the colour leave his partner's face. "If not more. I mean, her whole life has just gone up in flames."

Bakura nodded slowly in agreement. He hadn't realised how selfish he was being. Of course it affected her, he knew that, but he hadn't really stopped to consider _how_ it affected her, or her life. Marik could see Bakura was losing himself to his thoughts and he slapped him on the back. "Talk to her," Marik said. "And for Ra's sake let me get back to my chambers."

Bakura grinned. "I forgot you had company."

The two began to walk back down the hall. "She's probably left by now," Marik said.

"Who is she?" Bakura asked.

Marik shrugged. "I don't know, I didn't ask her name."

Bakura laughed. "You know if you're not careful you'll end up like me one day."

The two stopped outside Marik's chambers and Marik placed his hand in the door latch. "Well, there are worse things I could be," he said but Bakura disregarded the compliment and set off to his own chambers. "Hey!" Marik called out. Bakura turned around. "I'll find healer or a midwife or whoever the hell I can track down in the morning," he said. "You know, to get her checked out."

"I'd appreciate that," Bakura said.

"Besides," Marik continued. "You could find yourself relieved, she might just be fat."

That being said, Marik quickly retreated to his room before Bakura could find something heavy to throw at him.

...

Bakura ambled back to his own chambers, muttering under his breath. "Tell her how you feel," he mimicked Marik. The idea seemed simple enough, but to him emotions were a sign of weakness and he dared not show any. He wanted everyone to know how powerful he was and to fear him like they would a god. But... he thought, could Kiya be an exception to his rule?

When he opened his door he saw her sitting on his bed with her knees drawn to her chest. She had been staring blankly at the door, as if waiting for him. Moving closer he noticed her eyes were red and her face was swollen; she had been crying. The very thought of it hurt him. She'd been with him for no more than a few hours and already she'd been reduced to tears. Bakura sat down beside her. "I was hoping you wouldn't be awake," he confessed.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, ashamed to think she had disobeyed him already.

"Don't apologise," he said quickly. "There's no need."

Kiya lowered her legs and Bakura placed a hand on her thigh. Marik's voice echoed again in his mind. ' _Just tell her how you feel._ ' Bakura opened his mouth to speak but Kiya beat him to it. "You don't have to do this," she said.

"Do what?" he asked.

"This," she said looking down at her stomach. "Look after me."

"But I want to."

"Do you really?" she challenged.

"Y-yes." His answer was affirmative but both sensed the hesitation in his voice. It wasn't that he was lying but rather he was afraid.

Kiya, not knowing this, took his hand off her leg. "I should go," she said but Bakura grabbed her wrist.

"No, don't. I- I want you to stay."

"Bakura you don't have to lie to me," she said, pulling her hand away. He let her go and she stood from the bed. "There's a women's shelter on the east side of the city. That's where I was headed when you found me. I'll stay there until I can come up with enough money to find somewhere else. When I do, you're welcome to visit-"

"No!" Bakura yelled. Startled by his outburst, Kiya sat back down quickly. Bakura knelt down before her so that they were now eye to eye. He held her hands tightly. "Kiya, you know about my past," he said. "And I have told you what happened to my family. What you _don't_ know is that ever since that day all I have ever wanted was to have a family again." He paused to caress her cheek. "And now, because of you, I have that opportunity."

Kiya looked at him, her eyes full of tears. Bakura leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. When they parted Kiya didn't know what to say, and so she said the first thing that came to mind. "You just called me Kiya."

Bakura smirked. "A slip of the tongue, Tadukhipa."

She laughed through her tears and Bakura promised it wouldn't happen again.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Bakura and Kiya were still both asleep when Marik knocked on the door at some ungodly hour of the morning. At the noise, Kiya stirred in Bakura's arms but he pulled her closer. "I'm not getting up," he said, burying his nose in the back of her neck. Thankful for that, Kiya closed her eyes again and relaxed into his embrace. Her now all too familiar morning nausea was upon her and she could quite happily sleep through the day.

Impatiently, Marik banged on the door again, this time with the side of his fist. "You have ten seconds to get up Bakura or I'm coming in! Ten-"

Bakura let out a frustrated sigh.

"Nine-"

Kiya turned her head to look at the man beside her. "Good morning," she smiled sleepily, and Bakura leant in and kissed her.

"Eight."

"Morning," he replied and kissed her again.

"Seven, six-"

"I'll get rid of him," Bakura said.

"Five, four-"

In a flash, Bakura got up, grabbed his shendyt off the floor and wrapped it around his hips.

"Three, two, one-"

Right on cue, Bakura opened the door just far enough to poke his head out. "What do you want, Marik?" he said curtly, then noticed the women beside him. She was short, with frazzled brown hair and a wrinkled face. Bakura knew her.

"Apparently, Ana was a midwife in a previous life," Marik said.

Last night's conversation dawned on Bakura. "Does it have to be this early?"

"Yes." Marik said abruptly. "Surprisingly, I do have other things to do today that don't involve you or your stolen priestess."

Bakura's eyes narrowed at the blonde. Marik was the only one he let speak to him like that. "Fine. Give me a minute," he said and shut the door.

From the bed, Kiya looked concerned. "Is everything alright?"

Bakura crawled back onto the bed and sat straddling her lower legs. Slowly he pulled the sheet down just far enough to expose her bare breasts. "As much as I love this look on you, my dear, I am going to have to ask you to get dressed."

Kiya tried to sit but Bakura, now having second thoughts, gently pushed her back down. Removing the sheet off the rest of her body, he sat back to admire her naked form. She was perfect, he thought, as his hands ran over her stomach feeling the small bump that was his child. They soon found her breasts and he smirked at the quiet gasp she made. Last night she had confessed to him how tender they had become during her pregnancy and so, for the first time in his life, Bakura was gentle. His hands were like feathers softly stoking her pale skin, sending shivers from her shoulders right through to her toes. Bakura circled the tip of his finger around her areola a few times and then ran it over her nipple. Kiya took another sharp intake of breath, her back arching with pleasure and her toes scrunching into the mattress. Aware of what little time he had, Bakura left her breasts and ran his hands down past her stomach and straight to her womanhood. Through her soft pubic hair he found what he wanted and rubbed between her folds. She was still wet with him from their last night's activities, and to give him what he wanted Kiya opened her legs. Bakura parted her folds, and took in the sight. She was perfectly pink inside and just the look of her made him hard, an action he wasn't sure was possible so soon after last night. But then again, never had he been more turned on by a woman than he was by Kiya. This body, he thought while inserting a finger inside of her, this body would give him everything he desired.

Forgetting Marik at the door, Bakura leant forward and his lips found Kiya's neck. He kissed her excitedly, and he could feel the pulse of her own heart against his chest. Bakura had to stifle a moan in her neck as she guided him inside her.

There was loud banging on the door but they both ignored it. The whole place could be on fire and neither would care. All that mattered to Bakura at that moment was the happiness of the woman beneath him. The one clinging to him, the one whose legs were wrapped tightly around his hips, whose hot breath was heavy against his ear. He thrust into her rhythmically, trying not to be too hard but failing miserably. She was just so warm and so incredibly soft. Deeper and deeper he went, feeling the need to completely lose himself in her.

"Ohh," Kiya moaned softly, her hands latching onto his hair. "Ohh, Bakura, there, there. Keep going. Keep doing that… please."

Bakura kept his pace, a sly smile forming. He had always loved it when they begged. There was nothing more empowering for a man than to have a woman completely at his mercy.

He may have still been getting to know her as a person, but Bakura took great pride in already knowing Kiya's body. He could recognise when she was close to her release; her body would suddenly tense and then become limp, her breathing would shallow and her head would fall to the side. Bakura moved his lips to her ear and sucked gently on her lobe. That time was now.

"Come for me," he ordered.

There was another banging on the door.

"Come for me now."

Kiya moaned loudly and Bakura captured her lips to silence her. His domination pushed her over the edge and wanting nothing more than to please him, she let herself go, allowing the feeling that had been brewing inside her explode. In doing so she saw stars, and her body shuddered, her sweaty hands slipping from Bakura's hair. Bakura didn't need any more time, he'd simply been waiting for her. Seconds after her release, he let himself go too, his body spasming violently with pleasure.

When he was done, Bakura rolled off Kiya and collapsed beside her, trying to catch his breath. The air had become sticky, and the smell of sex was present in the air. Kiya wiped the hair that stuck to the side her face. She needed a shower, she thought, that and a large glass of water. As if reading her mind Bakura pulled his flask up off the floor and offered it to her before taking a large swig himself.

"Bakura, I swear to Ra!" They heard Marik yell and then there was more banging.

Bakura couldn't help but laugh as he wiped the water from his chin. "Marik's found you a midwife," he said, still rather out of breath.

"What? They're waiting outside?"

Bakura nodded and Kiya fumbled to her feet. "Bakura!" she exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were too irresistible," he smirked, but Kiya wasn't listening; she was busy dressing herself in the clothes she picked up off the floor. Bakura went to speak again but Kiya simply threw his cloak over his head.

Minutes passed and Marik was about to knock again when Bakura suddenly opened the door. "She's all yours, Ana," he said.

Marik couldn't help but notice the flustered appearance of his friend and poked his head in the door, only to see Kiya sat perfectly composed on the bed.

"Marik," Bakura called as he walked off.

Marik shrugged his shoulders at Ana and followed Bakura down the hall. The older woman picked her bag off the floor and headed inside Bakura's chambers.

"Hi," Kiya greeted with a blush across her face. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

Ana, who truth be told was rather fond of young love, told her not to worry, and then introduced herself.

"I remember you," Kiya said fondly. "You gave me a dress a few months ago."

Smiling, Ana placed her hands on Kiya's shoulders, instructing her to lie down. "I have a daughter about your age," she said.

Kiya made herself comfortable, placing her hand instinctively on her stomach. "Does she live here?" she asked, in the hope she could make a friend.

"No," Ana said sadly. "She lives with her husband. He's a fisherman, likes to earn an honest living," she snorted as if there was something terribly wrong with that. Kiya laughed; she liked Ana already.

The two were together for about an hour. Ana felt around her stomach, and asked her general questions about her health. Kiya answered truthfully and had many questions of her own. To Kiya's surprise there was no talk of her kidnap, or Set, or the circumstances which led her to be lying on this bed in the delicate state she was. All that was apparent to Ana was that Kiya was Bakura's, she was with his child, and that was that. It felt to Kiya as if the past had never existed, or perhaps more accurately, like she had traded lives with someone she never had the chance to meet.

Finally, Ana allowed Kiya to sit and the elder woman gave her the herbs she had brought with her. "This should help with the nausea," she said.

"Thank you."

"You haven't been eating, have you?" Ana had said it more of an observation than a question but Kiya answered her nonetheless.

"I haven't had much of an appetite lately."

"You need to eat whether you are hungry or not. You're not just eating for yourself anymore."

Kiya nodded. "I understand."

"Well unless you have any more questions, I think we are done."

In all honesty, Kiya had a thousand and one more questions to ask but she just shook her head. She had another six and a half months to prepare for this child. Her biggest worry at the moment was learning to love Bakura.

Ana gathered her things and left. Bakura and Marik had returned and were waiting on the other side of the door, and when Ana stepped out and closed the door, Bakura looked like he was about to pounce.

"Well, she's definitely pregnant," Ana said.

"Are you sure she's not just fat?" Marik asked.

Bakura punched him in the arm harder than he intended. "Would you shut up," he said.

Marik winced at the pain but said nothing further, clearly Bakura was not in a joking mood.

"If anything," Ana said "she could do with gaining some weight."

"What do you mean?" Bakura asked all too quickly. "Is she ill?"

"She's fine, Bakura," Ana said calmly. "She's just a little underweight. Stress probably. She just needs to remember to eat regularly."

"You there," Bakura called out to a new recruit he could see walking further down the hall. The man was young, sixteen or seventeen perhaps. He almost fell over his own feet at the sound of Bakura's voice.

"Y-yes, My Lord?"

"Fetch me some food," Bakura said. "The best."

The young man bowed, his hands shaking at his side and his voice broke as he spoke. "Y-yes, yes, of course, right away, My Lord."

Marik stifled a laugh. Rookies, he thought. Utterly useless.

Bakura turned his attention back to the midwife. "Anything else?"

"No, aside from that, she's perfectly healthy."

Bakura released a staggered breath. He had never been more relieved.

Ana bowed slightly. "If you she needs anything, or if you have any questions, you know where to find me," she said.

"Thank you," Bakura said.

When it was just the two of them Marik patted Bakura on the back. "Congrats, man."

Bakura smiled. "Thanks."

Marik scrunched up his face. "Don't do that," he said, indicating Bakura's smile. "It doesn't suit you. Looks like a dog mauled you."

Bakura shoved Marik. "Get out of my sight!" he growled.

Marik walked away laughing. "Seriously though," he said, turning back. "I'm happy for you."

Trying not to smile this time, Bakura said, "Me too."

Bakura watched his friend leave, and then turned and rapped lightly on the door before opening it. "It's just me," he said, hoping not to startle her.

"Hello me," Kiya replied.

Bakura shut the door. "How did everything go?"

"I really like her," Kiya smiled.

"Good," Bakura said and took Kiya into his arms. Just as he leant down to kiss her there was another knock at the door. "Can't we have a moment's peace?" he snarled.

Kiya smirked, "Obviously not."

"Who is it?" Bakura demanded.

"I ah- I have your food, My Lord," a high pitched voice squeaked.

When Bakura opened the door again he saw the young man from earlier, shaking like he had the plague, his hands holding out a plate of food. Bakura took it without thanks and shut the door in his face. Looking down at what he'd been given, there was a selection of cold meats, bread, and fruit. "You need to eat," Bakura said.

"Oh, no, it's alright, I'm not very hungry." Kiya's stomach churned at the very thought of food. She'd been having trouble keeping anything down so early in the morning.

"Eat," he said, shoving the plate into her hand and gesturing her to sit.

"Really, Bakura, I don't want to-"

He picked the fork off the plate, stabbed a grape and held it to her lips. "I'm not going to tell you again."

"But-"

"Eat."

Reluctantly, Kiya took the fork and ate the grape. Then picked at some of the other food on the plate.

While she chewed Bakura told her he had some things he needed to take care of today, and while he was out he needed her to stay in his chambers.

"Bakura…" Kiya sighed. Was this what her life with him was going to be like? Her locked away like his prisoner.

"It's just for today, I promise," he said. "Tonight we'll dine together with everyone."

"Okay," she said. One day; that she could manage.

"I need to see your husband tonight too," he said.

Kiya swallowed hard, the nauseousness suddenly came back in full force.

"Is that necessary?" she asked quietly.

"Yes. I'm going to tell him you're dead, that I killed you. I don't want them out searching for you. The best thing would be-"

But Kiya was no longer listening. She dropped her fork. An acidic taste had suddenly appeared in her mouth, and a cold sweat formed on her brow.

"Are you alright?" Bakura asked "You've gone very pale."

Kiya said nothing.

"Tadukhipa?"

She handed him the plate of food. "I'm going to be sick," she said, clutching her hand to her mouth. Bakura looked around quickly but there was nothing to give her. Before he could move Kiya bundled the bed sheet up as best she could and vomited into it like it was a bucket. Bakura practically threw the plate of food on the floor and gathered her hair behind her head.

"I'm sorry," Kiya cried. "I tried to tell you, eating before noon makes me sick."

She reached again and Bakura rubbed her back. He felt sick himself. They'd been together for not even a day and already he had failed her. Perhaps I'm not cut out for this, he thought. Why didn't I listen to her? I'm supposed to be the one supporting her, not making her sick.

After a few more minutes Kiya lifted her head, took a deep breath and in a croaky voice said, "I think I'm okay now."

"Are you sure?" Bakura asked.

"Yeah."

* * *

Later that morning, before his men left for the day, Bakura called an emergency meeting in the dining hall. A great mass of thieves gathered around the long table, and Bakura climbed on top so that all eyes were upon him.

"I will make this quick," he began, in a loud, clear voice. "As many of you will remember, a few months ago Kiya, the wife of the High Priest Set, was a prisoner here and I wish to inform you that last night she returned."

There was an uproar of cat calls and wolf whistles as the men recalled the attractive woman Bakura had paraded around this very room.

"Silence!" Bakura yelled. "She has returned this time not as my prisoner but as the expectant mother of my child." There were gossiping murmurs among the group but Bakura quickly silenced them once again. "She belongs to me," he hissed and then paused for emphasis. "She belongs to me and as such, you are not look at her and you are not to talk to her. Should circumstances permit you to come into contact with her, you will address her as Tadukhipa, and you will speak to her in the same manner you would me." Bakura surveyed the room. The majority of his men were now staring at the floor, kicking sand and fidgeting with their hands. None dared make eye contact when his voice was in this tone. "And hear this," Bakura warned. "Anyone who so much dares to even think about laying a hand on her, so help me Ra, they will regret the day they were ever born." When there was no response Bakura barked, "Have I made myself clear?"

There were a flurry of 'yes's' and head nods and when Bakura was satisfied his message was across he got down off the table.

* * *

The day passed quickly and when it was time for dinner Bakura walked Kiya to the dining room with his arm around her waist protectively. He was confident none of his men would dare touch her, especially after his speech that morning. But this was his child she was carrying, and he wasn't prepared to take any risks. He'd already lost one family and he wasn't going to lose another.

When the doors came into view Kiya stopped in her tracks, suddenly recalling the last time she was there. Bakura could feel her body trembling beneath his hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, turning into his chest. "I'm just… a little scared, I guess."

"Scared?" Bakura asked, surprised. "Of what?"

"Of what everyone will think of me," she confessed, feeling stupid saying it aloud. Why should she be worried about what a bunch of criminals thought of her?

Bakura lifted her chin and kissed her softly on the lips. "My men will think whatever I tell them to think," he said. "So you have nothing to worry about, alright?"

She nodded wordlessly.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Kiya took a deep breath and nodded again.

When they entered, Kiya was pleasantly surprised to find no one paid the slightest bit of attention to her. Everyone's conversations kept going as if she had never walked in. No one looked at her, and no one stopped to say anything to her. It was if she was a spirit travelling around, invisible to the naked eye. Bakura guided her to the head of the table and sat her down on his right. To Bakura's left sat a blonde man and Kiya recognised him from the last time she was there.

"Tadukhipa," Bakura said, introducing them officially. "This is Marik. Marik, Tadukhipa."

"It's nice to meet you, Marik," Kiya said.

Marik raised his glass of wine. "Likewise."

Bakura whispered in her ear. "Marik is my right hand. You can trust him."

It was then Bakura spotted someone else he needed to speak to across the room. "I'll be back in a minute," he said. "Help yourself to some food… or don't…whatever…"

Kiya laughed and reached for some bread. "I'm fine now," she smirked.

He graced her cheek lovingly and then stood.

Kiya looked around again. Aside from Marik, she didn't recognise anyone, not that she expected to, but it was strange to be at a dinner table and not know anyone's names. These men didn't act at all like the sort she would normally dine with either. They spoke with their mouths full, spitting, and cursing one another. The table was littered with food and spilled wine, and there was a man already passed out in the corner of the room. But what really bothered Kiya was that each time she made eye contact with someone she would smile, and they would simply look away.

Marik noticed her frown. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Why is no one looking at me?" she asked him.

"Looking at you," Marik laughed loudly, waving his chicken wing as he spoke. He too, seemed to have had a bit to drink "I'm surprised anyone is staying in the same room as you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kiya asked sharply.

Marik leant across the table. "Bakura's made it quite clear you belong to him, and his men worry they'll lose their eyes if they so much as even look at you."

"They fear him that much?" she asked curiously.

"Of course," he snorted as if it were a stupid question. "You're carrying his child, and the future heir of Egypt."

Heir of Egypt? Kiya thought. But before she could ask what he meant by that, Bakura sat back down beside her. Marik relaxed back into his chair and Bakura placed his hand on Kiya's thigh, rubbing it reassuringly. Though she didn't want to, Kiya forced a smile. The feeling of doubt that had left her last night had resurfaced again, bubbling irritatingly in the pit of her stomach. Had she really just gone from being one man's property to the next?

 **Hi everyone!**

 **Firstly, wow! There seems to be a lot more sex in this story than I had ever intended there to be! I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not but, whatever, I'll roll with it. Secondly (and probably more importantly), Happy New Year!**

 **As always, I hope everyone enjoyed this (extra-long) chapter. If you did, feel free to leave me a review, and if you didn't, well then just bugger off. Teehee. JK.**

 **Oh and BTW for anyone who cares: It's my birthday today. So um, yeah, HB to me!**


	13. Chapter 13

**This is possibly my favourite chapter so far. Please R &R. Thank you.**

Chapter Thirteen

 _It was a beautiful day, if only for the child she saw so clearly. In the sun his normally white hair was now golden. His arms stretched high above his head as he clutched onto his father's hands for support. His large blue eyes showed less fear than determination; he'd inherited that, she was sure, from his father. Slowly he took one step, then two. Then, a few more. His legs wobbled and his heart-rate quickened but he didn't care. He felt safe in the hands of his father; he knew little else. Soon the child was walking faster than he ever had before. His mother clapped joyously in the distance. Seeing her the boy giggled, "Mummy." And a contagious smile illuminated both of their faces. Picking up his legs higher the boy tried his best to move faster. His mother was almost within reach. Faster, he tried, faster. When it was safe to do so, his father let go of his hands and the child fell into the warm arms of his mother. She hugged him tight and kissed his forehead. She never thought she could love anything as much as she did this child._

 _Everything felt perfect. But then she looked up at the child's father and saw his face was now nothing more than a blur. He motioned for her to stand and she did, child cradled in her arms, though she could move no further. The man took a few backwards steps and, as much as she tried, the woman couldn't follow. Finding her voice, she called out for him to stay. He smiled but shook his head. He hadn't the time. Turning his back on his wife and child, he walked away. The woman cried as she watched him fade into the shadows._

Startled, Kiya woke up gasping for air. She had dozed off while waiting for Bakura to return. Her hand felt its way to her stomach, as it did every time she woke. Her small bump was still there and there was no pain. Everything is okay, she said, trying to calm herself. Casting her head to the side she noticed Bakura was not there. With no windows in his room she had no indication of what time it was, but she was sure it was late. Anxiously, she began to bite her nails, another habit her mother had always scolded her for. Would she chide her own child, too? No of course she wouldn't. Forced to be born a bastard, her child deserved nothing but love.

As she lay back down Kiya refused to believe anything bad had happened to Bakura. He had left not long after dinner to go see Set. His plan was to confess to her murder. To brag about the explicit details of her death. To convince them to stop searching for her.

Kiya fiddled with her fingers, and with the spot that no longer bore a ring. Before Bakura left she had given it to him to throw back in Set's face. And also in her secret hope that one day Bakura might replace it for her.

* * *

Bakura stood in the throne room, having just made a dramatic entry. The Pharaoh's guards surrounded him. Their spears pointed to his neck but he wasn't concerned. In fact, he found it rather amusing. Bakura had always pitied a man who would so willingly die for another. Sure these men appeared strong but with one swift movement from him they would cower like dogs. They were no match for his Ka or the shadows he could so easily summon.

"How dare you step foot in our palace," Set spat. "You miserable piece of filth!" Bakura smirked and Aknamkanon raised his hand to silence the high priest. Set ignored him. "I know it was you who took my wife. Now where is she?"

If Bakura had wanted to remark, he didn't.

"What is it that you want, Bakura?" Pharaoh Aknamkanon asked calmly.

One of the guard's spears inched closer to Bakura's neck. Bakura turned his head and hissed, teeth bared and eyes flashing red. The guard flinched and took a step back. "Pitiful," Bakura mumbled.

"Thief," Set growled, drawing his rod from his robe.

"Calm yourself, Set," Aknamkanon warned.

"You wish to find your wife, _priest_?" Bakura asked.

"Tell me where she is!" Set demanded.

"Well then I would suggest that you tell your guards to stop searching the city and to start looking in the afterlife instead."

"What?" said Set.

Priestess Isis covered her mouth with one hand, hoping to silence the gasp. The two had been close friends, and she was shocked at what Bakura was implying.

"I slit her throat this morning," Bakura clarified. "She no longer lives."

There was a deadly silence in the room. The guards looked at one another, unsure if they should ignore their order and just attack the intruder. Aknamkanon stared at the floor, saddened by the news.

Set looked over to where Kisara was hiding herself behind a pillar. Her head poked around it, and she too was covering her mouth. Set had wanted to be with Kisara but not like this.

"You see priest," Bakura began, and Set returned his gaze to his wife's murderer. Eyes alight with rage. "Integrity is very important to me. Unlike you I am not one to break a promise." Bakura raised his voice for clarity. "I made it very clear to you that your wife would die if you refused to hand over the Millennium Rod! You failed to uphold your side of the deal, and so in turn, you failed her. I held true to my word. A little late I must confess. But better late than never, wouldn't you agree?"

Set didn't say anything.

"So, last night," Bakura continued. "When you were… preoccupied, so to speak. I snuck into your room while she was sleeping, put a knife to her throat and told her if she didn't come silently, I would kill her right then and there. She's very obedient, I'll compliment you on that. You trained her well."

"If your plan was to kill her all along then why did you feel the need to take her away to do it?"

Set regretted asking this as soon as he finished the sentence. Bakura's smile grew devilish.

"Because I wanted to have some fun with her before she died," he said. "I must say priest, I don't know how you did it. How you fucked around behind her back for so long. Kisara must be quite something. Because, my god, Kiya's body…" He licked his lips. "A normal man would not tire of that so easily -"

"Shut your mouth thief or I will shut it for you!"

"A little testy today are we?" Bakura teased. "Your wife had a dirty mouth too."

Set stepped down off the podium and walked across the room. The Pharaoh's men moved back.

"Oh, and in case you were wondering," Bakura said. "I was nothing short of a gentleman. I didn't pass her around my men. She thanked me for that. As much as they wanted her, I don't share my toys." Bakura took a step forward. His head tilted to one side and his smirk grew wider. "I let them watch though."

Still walking towards the thief, Set tightened his grip on his rod. "I won't tell you again!"

Bakura took another step forward and the two were now face to face. Bakura whispered so only Set could hear, "Do you want to hear how she begged?"

Set's fist hit the side of Bakura's face and the thief stumbled back, laughing manically. This was exactly the type of response he was hoping for.

"Go on," Bakura lured. "Hit me again!"

The High Priest lunged himself at Bakura, grabbing him by the collar of his robe and punched him again, this time just above his eye.

"Harder!" Bakura laughed. "That's how your wife liked it."

At that, Set lost it. He threw Bakura onto the floor and kicked him in the ribs, and in the stomach, and his face. When he could no longer see straight Set stood back and pulled his Millennium Rod apart, holding the dagger part up high. "I'm going to kill you with the very thing you wanted so badly!"

"That's it…" Bakura muttered, spitting blood from his mouth. "Avenge her."

"Set control yourself!" Aknamkanon called. "Bakura's Ka was born of hatred. He's planning to unleash it and your anger is doing nothing but fueling its power!"

"Huh," Set said. He lowered his arm and looked down. Bakura was kneeling on the ground with a dark aura surrounding him. The very aura was connected to Set's chest. How had he not noticed? Through it Bakura was drawing out of all his negative energy.

The other guardians ran forward to intervene but it was too late. Bakura suddenly stood and with a cry he summoned his Ka; the destructive Diabound.

Panic set in at the sight of the beast. The Pharaoh's guards, as Bakura had predicted, retreated, knowing that they were no match for such a monster.

Pointing his rod at the stone tablet on the wall Set unleashed his own creature, Galestgoras, a dragon like monster with sharp claws and an ever sharper eye. The two beasts circled one another above their masters.

"Give yourself up thief," Set said. "You are no match for Galestgoras."

"We'll see about that," Bakura sneered. "Diabound, attack!"

"Galestgoras, attack!"

The two beasts collided. The force of the impact shook the palace and bits of alabaster fell from the ceiling.

"Shimon!" Pharaoh Aknamkanon called. "Get the women to safety."

"Yes, my Lord."

Priest Mahad and Priest Shada stepped forward, clutching their own Millennium items.

"No!" Aknamkanon said, holding out his arm. "This is Set's battle. He must face it alone."

The remaining court members stood and watched the two monsters battle it out. So far, Set and Bakura appeared evenly matched. Galestgoras would strike and soon after Diabound wound return with its own blast. Bakura was still drawing on Set's hatred. It didn't matter that the Pharaoh had told Set to calm down. The priest was hot-tempered by nature and he had just been told, very publicly, that his wife was raped and murdered by Egypt's most heinous criminal. Nothing but Bakura's death would calm him now.

Diabound made a double strike and Galestgoras skidded across the floor. Set moved out of the way just in time. "Get up!" He ordered.

Diabound was about to attack again. One more blow and it would be all over. A ball of black energy was released from the serpent's mouth but Galestgoras countered it with his own attack.

"Yes!" Priest Mahad cheered, but they all knew it was far too soon to be celebrating.

Galestgoras got to its feet and let out a deafening roar. It leaped forward, latching its sharp teeth into the side of Diabound's neck. Diabound reached out and grabbed hold of Galestgoras's arms, trying desperately to push it away. The serpent part of Diabound latched onto Galestgoras's leg and the beast let out another cry, this one of pain.

The two let go of one another and they took a few steps apart, staring each other down.

Bakura knew there was only one way to end this. He looked up at Diabound and as if reading Bakura's mind, the beast nodded.

Diabound ran swiftly to the right in a large semi-circle, and released two quick blasts. One aimed at Galestgoras and, while he was defending himself, the second attack was directed at the stone tablet behind Set. On impact a loud boom rang through the palace and the tablet shattered into a thousand pieces.

"No!" Set shouted as Galestgoras evaporated into nothing.

Bakura smirked. "Game over."

"Enough!" The Pharaoh shouted, and in an instant all eyes were upon him. His Millennium Puzzle glowed. "Obelisk the Tormentor, come forth!" he called.

Out of nowhere a strong wind picked up, circling the throne room like a tornado. Specks of sand were blown about and Bakura held his arm up to shield his eyes.

When the wind died down he saw the Egyptian God clawing its way out of another stone tablet. Before it was fully formed Bakura called out for Diabound to attack.

The monster did as he was ordered, and hurtled his most powerful attack towards the God. Obelisk held his hand out of the tablet, a golden glow surrounded it, and then Diabound's attack stopped in its tracks. It hovered there for several moments, and when Obelisk had completely emerged from the stone, the attack disappeared.

"Finish this!" Aknamkanon called.

When Obelisk stepped forward the whole ground shook. The God was twice the size of Diabound and three times the strength. Bakura knew he didn't stand a chance against it but he wasn't bothered. He had come for Kiya and this battle was just an added bonus. He always knew the Pharaoh had a secret weapon, and now that he saw it in the flesh he could focus on a strategy to defeat it.

Obelisk attacked will full force and Bakura withdrew Diabound just as he was hit. Bakura stumbled backwards. The weight of the attack was heavy in his chest but he regained his composure quickly.

A cloud of smoke billowed from the God's attack and through it Bakura could see Set standing motionless, wallowing in his own defeat. Bakura threw him Kiya's ring and it bounced at his feet. It took Set a moment to realise what it was and by the time he had picked it up, Bakura had already escaped.

* * *

Kiya had just about fallen back to sleep when she heard the distinct click of the latch, and the chamber door creak open.

"Bakura," she smiled.

Bakura shut the door. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," she said, sitting up. "I was finding it difficult to sleep without you anyway… How did it go?" she asked anxiously.

"Fine," Bakura replied. Kiya might have believed him had he not limped when he walked. His hand pressed tightly to his side as he collapsed on the bed next to her. Kiya looked awfully concerned. "What?" he asked.

"You're bleeding," she said and went to touch his face.

"This?" he said, his hand beating hers to his temple. "It's nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing."

Kiya got out of bed and went to get a cloth but Bakura simply wiped the blood with his sleeve. When Kiya returned to his side she dabbed the wound gently. After a few minutes, she removed her hand and just as she went to stand again Bakura pulled her back down so that she was forced to lie beside him.

"Bakura, I need to fix your wounds," she said.

Bakura closed his eyes and tightened his grip around her waist. "Tomorrow," he whispered.

A couple of cuts and a few bruised ribs, nothing that couldn't wait, he thought. What he needed now was sleep. Summoning Diabound had used a lot of energy and he needed to recharge.

Kiya was about protest but when she looked up at him she was certain he was already asleep. Defeated, her head nuzzled in the crook of his neck.

"Tomorrow then," she whispered. "We'll always have tomorrow."


	14. Chapter 14

Sorry to have kept you waiting.

Chapter Fourteen

News of Bakura's visit to the palace spread through the Pharaoh's city like a plague, and the news of Kiya's death forced the palace into mourning. High Priest Set sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, and the weight of Kiya's grave on his shoulders. This was all his fault. If he hadn't been so cocky, so heartless… If he had just given the thief what he had desired she would still be alive. Set's blood boiled at the thought of the thief.

'How dare he?' He balled his fists, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. 'How dare he take something that belonged to me?'

He thought that about the rod too. But now with Kiya gone, he knew he had valued the wrong possession.

Kisara lay semi-naked in his bed. She had come to comfort him, to take his pain and turn it to pleasure. He started with her but he could not finish for Kiya had watched them from the side of the bed.

'I am gone for no more than a day and you choose to make love to her?' she said spitefully. 'You are not a man but a coward. Unable to face my death, unable to accept your fault. I shall see to it that Anubis eats you like the pig that you are.'

And with that, she disappeared.

With the sleeve of his robe, Set wiped the sweat that formed on his forehead. If it was the last thing that he did, he would find Bakura. He would kill him and avenge his wife's death. Perhaps then she could rest in peace and leave him be.

Three months later

Kiya was now six months pregnant. Her stomach had swollen, her face softened, and her breasts grown to twice their normal size. She had gotten used to her new life among the thieves, playing the role of mother to them already. In her life at the palace she had never had to lift a finger, never had to clean or tidy but she found comfort in doing those things now. For once in her life she felt useful and needed, and she spent her days learning to sew and would make children's clothes out of the fabric Bakura would buy for her at the market. Nesting, Ana had called it. It was a strange but natural concept.

Bakura returned home late one evening and crawled into bed. He nuzzled Kiya's neck. She woke groggy and confused.

'Bakura,' she said. 'What are you doing?'

'Please,' he found himself begging. 'It's been too long.'

Kiya's hand reached behind her and nestled in Bakura's hair. It had been many weeks since they had last been intimate. When they were first reunited, they couldn't keep their hands off one another. Their sex was hot and passionate. Nothing like it ever was with Set. But now as he propositioned her, Kiya sighed. It was not that she didn't want to, but rather she felt awkward. Uncomfortable in her own body. Still Bakura's hands caressed her breasts and she let out a moan.

'Bakura,' she breathed. She wanted so desperately to please him but she worried so much about the child inside her. 'What about-?'

'Shh,' Bakura hushed her and kissed down her neck. 'I'll be gentle.'

He didn't unclothe her, but simply lifted her dress so her womanhood was exposed. He caressed her tender skin, rubbing gently at the little jewel above her entrance. Kiya gasped for air. Every touch sent shock-waves through her body. She could feel her baby kick. Was it happy that its parents loved each other, or was it jealous as the father's attention?

When Kiya could take it no more she sat up and moved carefully to straddle him. As Bakura had done to her, she lifted his shendyt and played with him. He grew in her hand, becoming warm and firm. Then she lowered herself over his pulsing member, taking him in whole.

Tonight Bakura allowed her to be in control. Her movements were slow and at times he struggled to control himself. His natural instinct was to change positions, to have her on all fours, taking her from behind like the animals he knew they both were. But that was the old him; the one who cared not about others but only of himself. Kiya had changed him for the better. The new him respected her and would give his life to protect her and their unborn child.

Kiya leaned forward as far as her stomach would allow and she kissed Bakura on the lips. 'I've missed this,' she confessed.

Bakura closed his eyes and smiled. 'Keep talking to me,' he said.

Kiya giggled. 'And say what?'

'Tell me you love me.'

Her words were soft, like she was telling him a secret. 'I love you.'

Bakura grunted. 'Tell me you need me.'

Kiya ground herself against him, deeper than before. 'I've never needed anyone more in my life.'

'Tell me you-'

But he didn't finish because suddenly was a loud banging on the door. Before Bakura could tell Marik to go away, Marik kicked open the door.

Bakura sat up startled and wrapped his arms protectively around Kiya so that she wouldn't fall backwards or onto the floor. 'Marik! What the hell do you think you are doing?'

Marik shut and bolted the door. 'Get dressed,' he ordered. 'Code red.'

'Red?' Bakura repeated and Marik nodded.

Kiya could feel him go limp inside her. 'Bakura,' she asked nervously. 'What's going on?'

Bakura pulled himself from her, got up and dressed. He moved so swiftly that Kiya started to panic. She could hear voices rising in the hallway. What was going on?

Standing from the bed, Bakura dressed her in her travelling coat and tied a shawl around her head. 'B-Bakura,' she stammered, her hands reaching for his. 'Please tell me what's going on.'

'The Pharaoh's men are here.'

Kiya hadn't felt nauseous for months but his words had left her weak on her feet.

'I need you to go with Marik,' he said.

Marik rolled up the rug on the floor, revealing beneath it a trap door.

'Do everything he tells you to do.'

'Everything, huh?' Marik smirked as he opened the door and dropped a bag down. It landed with a thud.

Kiya ignored him, her eyes fixed on Bakura's. 'What about you? Aren't you coming?'

He kissed her hands. 'I'm needed here.'

You're needed with me, she wanted to shout, but she didn't. She had had conversations like this with Set before. Her opinion was never one that mattered.

Marik disappeared down the hole.

'Take this,' Bakura said and handed Kiya his knife. 'Do not hesitate to use it.'

Bakura brought his lips to Kiya's in a passionate kiss which could only be shared by a couple never expecting to see each other again. When they parted Kiya had tears in her eyes. 'Please don't leave me.'

Bakura kissed her nose and wiped away her tears. 'I'll see you soon,' he promised.

He took the lit torch from the wall in his room and threw it down to Marik. Then he told Kiya to sit on the edge of the trap door, and he lowered her down. Marik took the girl in his arms and before Kiya could take one last look at Bakura, he had locked them in. She shuddered at the sound of the carpet being draped across the floor. It felt like she was going to her grave.

Marik flung the bag over his shoulder, picked up the torch and took Kiya by the hand. 'Can you run?' he asked.

Kiya's hand supported her stomach. 'I can try.'

The two set off down the hidden alleyway, not so much at a run but rather a fast walk. Kiya had no idea where they were going or what the plan was but she could only trust Marik would lead them to safety.

They hadn't got far when Marik suddenly stopped. He handed the torch to Kiya and drew his knife from his pocket. Kiya heard what he did; voices in the distance. Marik signaled for her to get back, to hide in the shadows and don't come out. She did as she was told, like Bakura had told her to do.

There she waited.

The men appeared as if from nowhere. There were three of them. All armed. All twice the size of Marik. He fought well as far as Kiya could tell. He took the first man down with a stab to the chest and kicked the other man back. The third man attacked and threw Marik up against the wall but Marik's reflexes were fast and he stabbed the man in the eye before he could do anything to Marik. The man fell to the ground with a scream that Kiya was certain the pharaoh would hear from the palace. Marik pulled the knife from the man's head and stabbed him again in the chest.

The second man got back up on his feet.

'Marik look out!' Kiya screamed.

Marik was caught off guard and the second man punched him in the head. He fell to the ground, beside the dead. The man punched him again and again, until Marik's face was swollen and bruised. His knife had fallen from his hand and he reached out trying to find it, but it was too far away.

Kiya looked around. She didn't know what to do but she needed to do something. If the man killed Marik, he would come for her. Her scream had given her away. If she removed her shawl and showed him her identify, would he have mercy? Could she trick this man and tell him Marik had kidnapped her and forced her to bear his child? Would he take her back to the palace? Would Set have her back? No, Kiya thought. It was too late for that. She had made her decision the day she chose to lie with Bakura, the day she chose to keep his child. Together they would be partners in crime.

'Bakura,' she smiled. His knife was in her hand. _Do not hesitate to use it._

She knew what she needed to do.

Without further thinking Kiya emerged from the shadows and plunged Bakura's knife into the man's neck.

There was blood. So much blood. It spurted everywhere. Over Marik, over Kiya, over the floor and on the walls. She stabbed him over and over until he began to falter and Marik had the strength to push him off him. He crashed to the ground. His eyes wide and unblinking.

Kiya choked out a sob as she fell to her knees. She was shaking. Unable to comprehend what she had just done.

She had killed a man.

'Kiya,' Marik said in haste, addressing her in the name Bakura had warned them against. 'Are you alright? Are you hurt?'

She couldn't answer him, and so he checked over her body, pulling open her cloak and lifting up her dress to make sure the blood was not hers. 'You're alright,' he said, retying her cloak. He wiped the hair that clung to her sweat streaked face and kissed her forehead to sooth her. 'You're alright,' he repeated.

Kiya fell into his arms. She had never before been so scared. They sat in silence for some time until Marik decided they could stay no more.

The tunnel took them to the river and there they waited in the shadow of the trees for Bakura. The moon was bright in the sky, reflecting like a ghost on the water. Kiya's face was white under the light of the moon, making the blood that painted her face look even worse than it did before. Marik took a rag from his pocket and spat on it.

'What are you doing?' Kiya asked in disgust as he tried to wipe it on her face.

'Hold still,' he said.

Once again Kiya had no other choice than to do as he asked and Marik did his best to clean the blood from her face. It didn't work as well as he'd hoped and she was left with a smudge of red in her hair and one down the side of her face and neck.

Marik sighed. 'One look at you and Bakura's going to kill me,' he said.

Kiya could only hope he was alive to have the chance.


End file.
